Famous Quotes Ipsum

Word Lists: Famous Quotes

The engine that gives its mysterious inner life to a work of art must be the subterranean expression of a wish, working its way to the surface of a narrative. if the person you're talking to doesn't appear to be listening, be patient. it may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear. power consists.... in deciding which stories will be told. talking with you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out of body experience. do you understand, / child, how the moon, the tide / is in our own image? it is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it. these qualities are rare enough in a world where sexual performance has become as obligatory as sexual abstinence  -  or the pretension to it  -  once was. the worst by-product of the so-called sexual revolution is the substitution of performance for passion. what do you experience with your first mouthful of hot fudge sundae? its not surprising that we carry it over to describe the intensity of love and sex. they are composed like music. guided by his sense of beauty, and individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (beethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life. anna could have chosen another way to take her life. but the motif of death and the railway station, unforgettably bound to the birth of love, enticed her in her hour of despair with its dark beauty. without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress. there is no greater hell than to be a prisoner of fear. the whole difference between construction and creation is this; that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed, but a thing created is loved before it exists. i often wonder: suppose we could begin life over again, knowing what we were doing? suppose we could use one life, already ended, as sort of a rough draft for another? i think that every one of us would try, more than anything else, not to repeat himself, at the very least he would rearrange his manner of life, he would make sure of rooms like these, with flowers and light... prayer is not an old woman's idle amusement. properly understood and applied, it is the most potent instrument of action. they say that god is everywhere, and yet we always think of him as somewhat of a recluse. it's so sweet, i feel like my teeth are rotting when i listen to the radio. one does not love a place the less for having suffered in it unless it has all been suffering, nothing but suffering. you'll remember me like a melody / yeah, i'll haunt the world inside you i wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. every hour i am more and more concentrated in you; every thing else tastes like chaff in my mouth..

Not being beautiful was the true blessing.... not being beautiful forced me to develop my inner resources. the pretty girl has a handicap to overcome. why do some people always see beautiful skies and grass and lovely flowers and incredible human beings, while others are hard-pressed to find anything or any place that is beautiful? mostly, we authors must repeat ourselves--that's the truth. we have two or three great moving experiences in our lives--experiences so great and moving that it doesn't seem at the time that anyone else has been so caught up and pounded and dazzled and astonished and beaten and broken and rescued and illuminated and rewarded and humbled in just that way ever before. talking with you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out of body experience. i may know the word but not say it / i may know the truth but not face it / i may hear a sound, a whisper sacred and profound / but turn my head, indifferent never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow. one thing i've learned all these years is not to make love when you really don't feel it; there's probably nothing worse you can do to yourself than that. her guilty conscience was as vague as original sin. let children walk with nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life. what i couldn't say was that the real reason was so much deeper and harder and that we spend our lives deceiving ourselves of these real reasons, perhaps because when they are clear they are too painful. they say that god is everywhere, and yet we always think of him as somewhat of a recluse. we shall not cease from exploration  -  and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started -  and know the place for the first time. how many joys are crushed under foot because people look up at the sky and disregard what is at their feet? we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. your mind might make a connection that is useful. but true is another matter. true implies that you have found a connection that exists independent of your apprehension of it, that would exist whether you noticed it or not. and i must say that i have never seen such a connection in my life. there are times when i suspect that there are no such connections, that all links, bonds, ties, and similarities are creatures of thought and have no substance. watching stars without you, my soul cries is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves? live simply, but be complicated. i live my life in widening rings..

Not being beautiful was the true blessing.... not being beautiful forced me to develop my inner resources. the pretty girl has a handicap to overcome. i would rather be kicked with a foot than be overcome by a loud voice speaking cruel words. to find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life. footfalls echo in the memory / down the passage we did not take / towards the door we never opened / into the rose garden a pain stabbed my heart as it did every time i saw a girl i loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world..

The engine that gives its mysterious inner life to a work of art must be the subterranean expression of a wish, working its way to the surface of a narrative. if the person you're talking to doesn't appear to be listening, be patient. it may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear. power consists.... in deciding which stories will be told. talking with you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out of body experience. do you understand, / child, how the moon, the tide / is in our own image? it is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it. these qualities are rare enough in a world where sexual performance has become as obligatory as sexual abstinence - or the pretension to it - once was. the worst by-product of the so-called sexual revolution is the substitution of performance for passion. what do you experience with your first mouthful of hot fudge sundae? its not surprising that we carry it over to describe the intensity of love and sex. they are composed like music. guided by his sense of beauty, and individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (beethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life. anna could have chosen another way to take her life. but the motif of death and the railway station, unforgettably bound to the birth of love, enticed her in her hour of despair with its dark beauty. without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress. there is no greater hell than to be a prisoner of fear. the whole difference between construction and creation is this; that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed, but a thing created is loved before it exists. i often wonder: suppose we could begin life over again, knowing what we were doing? suppose we could use one life, already ended, as sort of a rough draft for another? i think that every one of us would try, more than anything else, not to repeat himself, at the very least he would rearrange his manner of life, he would make sure of rooms like these, with flowers and light... prayer is not an old woman's idle amusement. properly understood and applied, it is the most potent instrument of action. they say that god is everywhere, and yet we always think of him as somewhat of a recluse. it's so sweet, i feel like my teeth are rotting when i listen to the radio. one does not love a place the less for having suffered in it unless it has all been suffering, nothing but suffering. you'll remember me like a melody / yeah, i'll haunt the world inside you i wish you could invent some means to make me at all happy without you. every hour i am more and more concentrated in you; every thing else tastes like chaff in my mouth..

Not being beautiful was the true blessing.... not being beautiful forced me to develop my inner resources. the pretty girl has a handicap to overcome. why do some people always see beautiful skies and grass and lovely flowers and incredible human beings, while others are hard-pressed to find anything or any place that is beautiful? mostly, we authors must repeat ourselves--that's the truth. we have two or three great moving experiences in our lives--experiences so great and moving that it doesn't seem at the time that anyone else has been so caught up and pounded and dazzled and astonished and beaten and broken and rescued and illuminated and rewarded and humbled in just that way ever before. talking with you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out of body experience. i may know the word but not say it / i may know the truth but not face it / i may hear a sound, a whisper sacred and profound / but turn my head, indifferent never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow. one thing i've learned all these years is not to make love when you really don't feel it; there's probably nothing worse you can do to yourself than that. her guilty conscience was as vague as original sin. let children walk with nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life. what i couldn't say was that the real reason was so much deeper and harder and that we spend our lives deceiving ourselves of these real reasons, perhaps because when they are clear they are too painful. they say that god is everywhere, and yet we always think of him as somewhat of a recluse. we shall not cease from exploration - and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started - and know the place for the first time. how many joys are crushed under foot because people look up at the sky and disregard what is at their feet? we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. your mind might make a connection that is useful. but true is another matter. true implies that you have found a connection that exists independent of your apprehension of it, that would exist whether you noticed it or not. and i must say that i have never seen such a connection in my life. there are times when i suspect that there are no such connections, that all links, bonds, ties, and similarities are creatures of thought and have no substance. watching stars without you, my soul cries is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves? live simply, but be complicated. i live my life in widening rings..

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