Famous Quotes Ipsum
Word Lists: Famous Quotes
I saw the angel in the marble and carved until i set him free. artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness. the stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is. everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. the writer should never be ashamed of staring. there is nothing that does not require his attention. your daughter has a quick and witty tongue. the opposite of a correct statement is a false statement. the opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound truth. you must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. everytime you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing. a prudent question is one half of wisdom. 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. pooh looked at his two paws. he knew that one of them was the right, and he knew that when you had decided which of them was the right, then the other was the left, but he never could remember how to begin. it is not upon you alone the dark patches fall. the choice may have been mistaken - the choosing was not. my religion is very simple. my religion is kindness. i discovered i scream the same way whether i'm about to be devoured by a great white or if a piece of seaweed touches my foot. it's really a wonder that i haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. yet i keep them, because in spite of everything i still believe that people are really good at heart. i simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death. give me a museum and i'll fill it. we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it. everything possible to be believed is an image of truth. i know that a life without love is no life at all. i took us for better and i took us for worse / don't you ever forget it / now the steel bars between me and a promise / suddenly bend with ease / the closer i'm bound in love to you / the closer i am to free when christ said: "i was hungry and you fed me," he didn't mean only the hunger for bread and for food; he also meant the hunger to be loved. jesus himself experienced this loneliness. he came amongst his own and his own received him not, and it hurt him then and it has kept on hurting him. the same hunger, the same loneliness, the same having no one to be accepted by and to be loved and wanted by. every human being in that case resembles christ in his loneliness; and that is the hardest part, that's real hunger. horror is shock, a time of utter blindness. horror lacks every hint of beauty. all we can see is the piercing light of an unknown event awaiting us. sadness, on the other hand, assumes we are in the know. the unexamined life is not worth living..
Never trust the artist. trust the tale. the best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. they must be felt with the heart. when power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. when power narrows the areas of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. when power corrupts, poetry cleanses, for art establishes the basic human truths which must serve as the touchstone of our judgement. do not the most moving moments of our lives find us all without words? metaphors are not to be trifled with. a single metaphor can give birth to love. i have not lived as a woman. i've lived as a man. i've just done what i damn well wanted to and i've made enough money to support myself and i ain't afraid of being alone. never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow. with our thoughts, we make the world. and if tonight my soul may find her peace / in sleep, and sink in good oblivion, / and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower / then i have been dipped again in god, and new-created. 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. it is wrong, then, to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious coincidences (like the meeting of anna, vronsky, the railway station and death, or the meeting of beethoven, tomas, tereza, and the cognac), but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. for he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty. 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. too often we get scared. scared of what we might not be able to do. scared of what people might think if we tried. we let fears stand in the way of our hopes. we say no when we want to say yes. we sit quietly when we want to scream. and we shout with the others when we should keep our mouths shut. why? after all, we do only go around once. there's really no time to be afraid. just do it. i liked how sterile my room was, cleansed of all the emotions that have ever been felt there, all the fights and lovemaking and plain rest of weary travelers wiped clean, leaving no mark on the perfectly made bed. for tomorrow may rain, so i'll follow the sun. 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. religion is what the individual does with his own solitariness. all humanity is passion; without passion, religion, history, novels, art would be ineffectual. finish each day and be done with it. you have done what you could. some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. we are governed not by armies and police but by ideas. listening four or five times a day to newscasters and commentators, reading the morning papers and all the weeklies and monthlies - nowadays this is described as 'taking an interest in politics'. st. john of the cross would have called it indulgence in idle curiosity and the cultivation of disquietude for disquietude's sake. so since i've been home, i've learned two important things: ethernet is a gift from god, and it just doesn't sound the same to listen to the indigo girls without two people singing along. these things seem small and indistinguishable, like far-off mountains turned into clouds. 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. every now and then, everybody is entitled to too much perfection. the world breaks us all. afterward, some are stronger at the broken places. the fact is, i was a trifle beside myself; or rather out of myself, as the french would say: i was conscious that at moment's mutiny had already rendered me liable to strange penalties and, like any other rebel slave, i felt resolved, in my desperation, to go to all lengths. years ago i discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. the unexamined life is not worth living. what is life? it is the flash of a firefly in the night. it is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. it is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset..
Power consists.... in deciding which stories will be told. a man can no more diminish god's glory by refusing to worship him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, 'darkness' on the walls of his cell. at the worst i accepted hollywood with the resignation of a ghost assigned to a haunted house. what is to give light must endure burning. the universe is made of stories, not atoms. art thou pale for weariness / of climbing heaven and gazing on earth / wandering companionless... i live my life in widening rings. to look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is. at last to know it, to love it, for what it is, and then, to put it away. leonard, always the years between us, always the years, always the love, always the hours.....
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Never trust the artist. trust the tale. the best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. they must be felt with the heart. when power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. when power narrows the areas of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. when power corrupts, poetry cleanses, for art establishes the basic human truths which must serve as the touchstone of our judgement. do not the most moving moments of our lives find us all without words? metaphors are not to be trifled with. a single metaphor can give birth to love. i have not lived as a woman. i've lived as a man. i've just done what i damn well wanted to and i've made enough money to support myself and i ain't afraid of being alone. never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow. with our thoughts, we make the world. and if tonight my soul may find her peace / in sleep, and sink in good oblivion, / and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower / then i have been dipped again in god, and new-created. 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. it is wrong, then, to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious coincidences (like the meeting of anna, vronsky, the railway station and death, or the meeting of beethoven, tomas, tereza, and the cognac), but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. for he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty. 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. too often we get scared. scared of what we might not be able to do. scared of what people might think if we tried. we let fears stand in the way of our hopes. we say no when we want to say yes. we sit quietly when we want to scream. and we shout with the others when we should keep our mouths shut. why? after all, we do only go around once. there's really no time to be afraid. just do it. i liked how sterile my room was, cleansed of all the emotions that have ever been felt there, all the fights and lovemaking and plain rest of weary travelers wiped clean, leaving no mark on the perfectly made bed. for tomorrow may rain, so i'll follow the sun. 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. religion is what the individual does with his own solitariness. all humanity is passion; without passion, religion, history, novels, art would be ineffectual. finish each day and be done with it. you have done what you could. some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. we are governed not by armies and police but by ideas. listening four or five times a day to newscasters and commentators, reading the morning papers and all the weeklies and monthlies - nowadays this is described as 'taking an interest in politics'. st. john of the cross would have called it indulgence in idle curiosity and the cultivation of disquietude for disquietude's sake. so since i've been home, i've learned two important things: ethernet is a gift from god, and it just doesn't sound the same to listen to the indigo girls without two people singing along. these things seem small and indistinguishable, like far-off mountains turned into clouds. 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. every now and then, everybody is entitled to too much perfection. the world breaks us all. afterward, some are stronger at the broken places. the fact is, i was a trifle beside myself; or rather out of myself, as the french would say: i was conscious that at moment's mutiny had already rendered me liable to strange penalties and, like any other rebel slave, i felt resolved, in my desperation, to go to all lengths. years ago i discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. the unexamined life is not worth living. what is life? it is the flash of a firefly in the night. it is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. it is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset..
Power consists.... in deciding which stories will be told. a man can no more diminish god's glory by refusing to worship him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, 'darkness' on the walls of his cell. at the worst i accepted hollywood with the resignation of a ghost assigned to a haunted house. what is to give light must endure burning. the universe is made of stories, not atoms. art thou pale for weariness / of climbing heaven and gazing on earth / wandering companionless... i live my life in widening rings. to look life in the face, always, to look life in the face, and to know it for what it is. at last to know it, to love it, for what it is, and then, to put it away. leonard, always the years between us, always the years, always the love, always the hours.....