Famous Quotes Ipsum

My first thought about art, as a child, was that the artist brings something into the world that didn't exist before, and that he does it without destroying something else, a kind of refutation of the conservation of matter. that still seems to me its central magic, its core of joy. 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. in tereza's eyes, books were the emblems of a secret brotherhood. for she had but a single weapon against the world of crudity surrounding her: the books she took out of the municipal library, and above all, the novels. she had read any number of them, from fielding to thomas mann. they not only offered her the possibility of an imaginary escape from a life she found unsatisfying; they also had a meaning for her as physical objects: she loved to walk down the street with a book under her arm. it had the same significance for her as an elegant cane for the dandy a century ago. it differentiated her from the others. to talk to each other is but a more animated and audible thinking. perhaps you too have met in the cause of your life women of that sort, who are self-luminous and shine in the dark, who are phosphorescent, like touchwood. have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? or perhaps you know the silence when you haven't the answer to a question you've been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause in a roomful of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you're all alone in the whole house? each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful, if you listen carefully. why is compassion not part of our established curriculum, an inherent part of our education? compassion, awe, wonder, curiosity, exaltation, humility - these are the very foundations of any real civilization, no longer the prerogatives, the preserves of any one church, but belonging to everyone, every child in every home, every school. feel the fear and do it anyway. keep your face to the sunshine, and you cannot see the shadows. two paths diverged in a wood, and i - i took the one less traveled by. and that has made all the difference. i say to mankind, be not curious about god. for i, who am curious about each, am not curious about god - i hear and behold god in every object, yet understand god not in the least. all things are possible until they are proved impossible - and even the impossible, may only be so as of now. 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. you'll remember me like a melody / yeah, i'll haunt the world inside you the things we forget may as well never have happened, but she had many memories, both real and illusory, and that was like living twice. she used to tell her faithful friend, the sage tao chi'en, that her memory was like the hold of the ship where they had come to know one another: vast and somber, bursting with boxes, barrels, and sacks in which all of the events of her life were jammed. awake it was difficult to find anything in that chaotic clutter, but asleep she could, just as mama fresia had taught her in the gentle nights of her childhood, when the contours of reality were as faint as a tracery of pale ink. she entered the place of her dreams along a much traveled path and returned treading very carefully in order not to shatter the tenuous visions against the harsh light of consciousness. she put as much store in that process as others put in numbers, and she so refined the art of remembering that she could see miss rose bent over the crate of marseilles soap that was her first cradle. but you will,' the queen said, 'if you don't make a memorandum of it.'</p> where there is great love there are always great miracles. loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty. i'm at peace with the world. i'm completely serene. i've discovered my purpose in life. i know why i was put here and why everything exists... i am here so everybody can do what i want. once everybody accepts it, they'll be serene too. is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves? i always thought of myself as a house. i was always what i lived in. it didn't need to be big. it didn't even need to be beautiful. it just needed to be mine. i became what i was meant to be. i built myself a life. i built myself a house..

Imagination is more powerful than knowledge. you can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus. art teaches nothing but the significance of life. do not follow where the path may lead. go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. the best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. they must be felt with the heart. if the path is beautiful, let us not ask where it leads. a book is a present you can open again and again. i could lay here and read all night. i am not able to fall asleep without reading. you have that time when your brain has nothing constructive to do so it rambles. i fool my brain out of that by making it read until it shuts off. i just think it's best to do something right up until you fall asleep. poets . . . create from the very depths of the collective unconscious, voicing aloud what others only dream. 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 the truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it. truth is a deep kindness that teaches us to be content in our everyday life and share with the people the same happiness. her guilty conscience was as vague as original sin. too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. i pray because i can't help myself. i pray because i'm helpless. i pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. it doesn't change god, it changes me. i try to draw the line but it ends up running down the middle of me most of the time. two paths diverged in a wood, and i - i took the one less traveled by. and that has made all the difference. why do we kill people who kill people to show that killing people is wrong? janis joplin taught me about passion. how many joys are crushed under foot because people look up at the sky and disregard what is at their feet? if we build a society based on honoring the earth, we build a society which is sustainable, and has the capacity to support all life forms. but you will,' the queen said, 'if you don't make a memorandum of it.'</p> 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. loneliness is the first thing which god's eye named, not good..

You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus. art teaches nothing but the significance of life. nothing strengthens the judgement and quickens the conscience like individual responsibility. freedom lies in being bold. curiosity is braver than rage. exploration is a nobler calling than combat. the unknown beckons to us, singing its siren song and making our hearts pound with fear and desire. if the path is beautiful, let us not ask where it leads. so much of what i see reminds me of something i read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? i am not quite sure how writing changes things, but i know that it does. it is indirect - like the trails of earthworms aerating the earth. it is not always deliberate - like the tails of glowing dust dragged by comets. but it does have an effect on the cosmos. before things are written down they don't exist in quite the same way. the act of fixing them in words gives them a kind of currency that can be traded. the blood jet is poetry, there is no stopping it. writers aren't people exactly. or, if they're any good, they're a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person. it's like actors, who try so pathetically not to look in mirrors. who lean backward trying--only to see their faces in the reflecting chandeliers. i would rather be kicked with a foot than be overcome by a loud voice speaking cruel words. i am woman, hear me roar! wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been. her guilty conscience was as vague as original sin. it is not the answer that enlightens, but the question. i've learned that fate only takes you so far. after that, it's up to you to make it happen. the very greatest mystery is in unsheathed reality itself. unless you try to do something beyond what you have already mastered, you will never grow. bush thinks he is still living in the age of cowboys, and that the world is like texas with himself as sheriff. these things seem small and indistinguishable, like far-off mountains turned into clouds. how many joys are crushed under foot because people look up at the sky and disregard what is at their feet? if i had a formula for bypassing trouble, i wouldn't pass it around. wouldn't be doing anybody a favor. trouble creates a capacity to handle it. i don't say embrace trouble. that's as bad as treating it as an enemy. but i do say, meet it as a friend, for you'll see a lot of it and had better be on speaking terms with it. a memory without a blot of contamination must be an exquisite treasure, an inexhaustible source of pure refreshment the things we forget may as well never have happened, but she had many memories, both real and illusory, and that was like living twice. she used to tell her faithful friend, the sage tao chi'en, that her memory was like the hold of the ship where they had come to know one another: vast and somber, bursting with boxes, barrels, and sacks in which all of the events of her life were jammed. awake it was difficult to find anything in that chaotic clutter, but asleep she could, just as mama fresia had taught her in the gentle nights of her childhood, when the contours of reality were as faint as a tracery of pale ink. she entered the place of her dreams along a much traveled path and returned treading very carefully in order not to shatter the tenuous visions against the harsh light of consciousness. she put as much store in that process as others put in numbers, and she so refined the art of remembering that she could see miss rose bent over the crate of marseilles soap that was her first cradle. to live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never; to let the spiritual, unbidden, and unconscious grow up through the common. this is to be my symphony..