Famous Quotes Ipsum
Word Lists: Famous Quotes
Does a hero know she's a hero if no one tells her? do you know a hero no one else knows? a hero doesn't have to save a busload of school kids from certain disaster; or score the winning point in the big game. a hero can be anyone who inspires you, anyone you look up to ,anyone who cheers you on, makes you feel better than you were before - just as they made themselves better then they were before. do you know a hero? tell her. then tell everyone else. 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. walter turned on the radio: electric violins wailing, twisted romance, the four-square beat of heart break. trite suffering, but suffering nonetheless. the entertainment business. what voyeurs we all have become..
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. there is a certain kind of kid who is so in love with words that she kisses the pictures of authors on the jackets of books. i was one. all i ever wanted was to be a writer. though this yearning now seems like aspiring to be a blacksmith in the age of the automobile, my childhood image of what a writer did bestowed superhuman powers on the profession. a writer sat privately at her desk and made public things happen. the power was godlike. the sense of accomplishment had to be the same. making words slant across the page was like making rain. flowers grew in ink. hurricanes and revolutions were stirred up by the sound of pen scratching paper. talking with you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out of body experience. 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. people living deeply have no fear of death. feel the fear and do it anyway. i mean, even the most spiritual person loves to go shopping. there are two kinds of people: those who say to god, "thy will be done," and those to whom god says, "all right, then, have it your way." there is something very wonderful in music. words are wonderful enough; but music is even more wonderful. it speaks not to our thoughts as words do; it speaks straight to our hearts and spirits, to the very core and root of our souls. music soothes us, stirs us up; it puts noble feelings in us; it melts us to tears; we know not how - it is a language by itself, just as perfect, in its way, as speech, as words. in a cruel and imperfect world, she was living proof that god could still create perfection. the world breaks us all. afterward, some are stronger at the broken places. 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. is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves?.
Action is eloquence. now, what was tiring had disappeared and only the beauty remained. it took me too long to realize / that i don't take good pictures / 'cause i have the kind of beauty / that moves writers tend to devour people, themselves included. we do not write in order to be understood, we write in order to understand. we are wise, wise women. we are giggling girls. i am woman, hear me roar! weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless. 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. returning, i had to cross before the looking-glass; my fascinated glance involuntarily explored the depth it revealed. all looked colder and darker in that visionary hollow than in reality; and the strange little figure there gazing at me, with a white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit: i thought it like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, bessie's evening stories represented as coming out of lone, ferny dells in moors, and appearing before the eyes of travelers. nothing is really so very frightening when everything is so very dangerous. it takes courage to grow up and turn out to be who you really are. we don't say everything that we could / so that we can say later / "oh, you misunderstood" 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. i'll pretend this is real / 'cause this is what i like best janis joplin taught me about passion. 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. a bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song. most of the dandelions had changed from suns to moons. it's still snowing. and freezing. however, we haven't had an earthquake lately. music is well said to be the speech of angels; in fact, nothing among the utterances allowed to men is felt to be so divine. it brings us nearer to the infinite. moonlight is sculpture; sunlight is painting. i am young. i am younger each year at the first snow. when i see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving; then i am in love again and very young and i believe everything. christ is in the manger and santa in heaven. the sky was that deep sunday blue going black, just on the cusp of color seeping into empty space. are there not chapters in everybody's life that seem to be nothing, and yet affect all the rest of history? 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..
Generate New Ipsum
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. there is a certain kind of kid who is so in love with words that she kisses the pictures of authors on the jackets of books. i was one. all i ever wanted was to be a writer. though this yearning now seems like aspiring to be a blacksmith in the age of the automobile, my childhood image of what a writer did bestowed superhuman powers on the profession. a writer sat privately at her desk and made public things happen. the power was godlike. the sense of accomplishment had to be the same. making words slant across the page was like making rain. flowers grew in ink. hurricanes and revolutions were stirred up by the sound of pen scratching paper. talking with you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out of body experience. 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. people living deeply have no fear of death. feel the fear and do it anyway. i mean, even the most spiritual person loves to go shopping. there are two kinds of people: those who say to god, "thy will be done," and those to whom god says, "all right, then, have it your way." there is something very wonderful in music. words are wonderful enough; but music is even more wonderful. it speaks not to our thoughts as words do; it speaks straight to our hearts and spirits, to the very core and root of our souls. music soothes us, stirs us up; it puts noble feelings in us; it melts us to tears; we know not how - it is a language by itself, just as perfect, in its way, as speech, as words. in a cruel and imperfect world, she was living proof that god could still create perfection. the world breaks us all. afterward, some are stronger at the broken places. 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. is not life a hundred times too short for us to bore ourselves?.
Action is eloquence. now, what was tiring had disappeared and only the beauty remained. it took me too long to realize / that i don't take good pictures / 'cause i have the kind of beauty / that moves writers tend to devour people, themselves included. we do not write in order to be understood, we write in order to understand. we are wise, wise women. we are giggling girls. i am woman, hear me roar! weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless. 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. returning, i had to cross before the looking-glass; my fascinated glance involuntarily explored the depth it revealed. all looked colder and darker in that visionary hollow than in reality; and the strange little figure there gazing at me, with a white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit: i thought it like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp, bessie's evening stories represented as coming out of lone, ferny dells in moors, and appearing before the eyes of travelers. nothing is really so very frightening when everything is so very dangerous. it takes courage to grow up and turn out to be who you really are. we don't say everything that we could / so that we can say later / "oh, you misunderstood" 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. i'll pretend this is real / 'cause this is what i like best janis joplin taught me about passion. 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. a bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song. most of the dandelions had changed from suns to moons. it's still snowing. and freezing. however, we haven't had an earthquake lately. music is well said to be the speech of angels; in fact, nothing among the utterances allowed to men is felt to be so divine. it brings us nearer to the infinite. moonlight is sculpture; sunlight is painting. i am young. i am younger each year at the first snow. when i see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving; then i am in love again and very young and i believe everything. christ is in the manger and santa in heaven. the sky was that deep sunday blue going black, just on the cusp of color seeping into empty space. are there not chapters in everybody's life that seem to be nothing, and yet affect all the rest of history? 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..