Famous Quotes Ipsum
Word Lists: Famous Quotes
One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar. my understanding of truth can change from day to day, and my commitment must be to truth rather than to consistency. i must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul. start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible..
You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus. i would rather fix something more important than my hair. tolerating blind obedience in the name of patriotism or religion ultimately takes our lives. loyalty to a petrified opinion never yet broke a chain or freed a human soul. anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old. 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. 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. 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. doing. what you'll discover will be wonderful. what you'll discover will be yourself. i try to draw the line but it ends up running down the middle of me most of the time. sure, the world is full of trouble. but as long as we have people undoing trouble, we have a pretty good world. for what is it to die / there are absolute things in the world but you must look deeply for them. the things that first present themselves to your notice are for the most part relative. beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. the least we can do is try to be there. we don't see things as they are - we see them as we are. you'll remember me like a melody / yeah, i'll haunt the world inside you we are each of us angels with only one wing. and we can only fly embracing each other..
Change only takes place through action. 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? writers tend to devour people, themselves included. 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 am a woman committed to / a politics / of transliteration, the methodology / of a mind / stunned at the suddenly / possible shifts of meaning - for which / like amnesiacs / in a ward on fire, we must / find words / or burn to talk to each other is but a more animated and audible thinking. we all agree that your theory is crazy, but is it crazy enough? 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. who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet's heart when caught tangled in a woman's body? a new position of responsibility will usually show a man to be a far stronger creature than was supposed. why? wherefore? inasmuch as which? anyone can look for fashion in a boutique or history in a museum. the creative explorer looks for history in a hardware store and fashion in an airport. 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. 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. 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. they say that god is everywhere, and yet we always think of him as somewhat of a recluse. start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible. 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. 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. perfection is terrible; it cannot have children. i love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress and grow brave by reflection. 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. the earth laughs in flowers. 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. footfalls echo in the memory / down the passage we did not take / towards the door we never opened / into the rose garden the person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. his heart withers if it does not answer another heart. his mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration. we are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams..
Generate New Ipsum
You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus. i would rather fix something more important than my hair. tolerating blind obedience in the name of patriotism or religion ultimately takes our lives. loyalty to a petrified opinion never yet broke a chain or freed a human soul. anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old. 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. 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. 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. doing. what you'll discover will be wonderful. what you'll discover will be yourself. i try to draw the line but it ends up running down the middle of me most of the time. sure, the world is full of trouble. but as long as we have people undoing trouble, we have a pretty good world. for what is it to die / there are absolute things in the world but you must look deeply for them. the things that first present themselves to your notice are for the most part relative. beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. the least we can do is try to be there. we don't see things as they are - we see them as we are. you'll remember me like a melody / yeah, i'll haunt the world inside you we are each of us angels with only one wing. and we can only fly embracing each other..
Change only takes place through action. 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? writers tend to devour people, themselves included. 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 am a woman committed to / a politics / of transliteration, the methodology / of a mind / stunned at the suddenly / possible shifts of meaning - for which / like amnesiacs / in a ward on fire, we must / find words / or burn to talk to each other is but a more animated and audible thinking. we all agree that your theory is crazy, but is it crazy enough? 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. who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet's heart when caught tangled in a woman's body? a new position of responsibility will usually show a man to be a far stronger creature than was supposed. why? wherefore? inasmuch as which? anyone can look for fashion in a boutique or history in a museum. the creative explorer looks for history in a hardware store and fashion in an airport. 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. 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. 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. they say that god is everywhere, and yet we always think of him as somewhat of a recluse. start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible. 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. 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. perfection is terrible; it cannot have children. i love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress and grow brave by reflection. 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. the earth laughs in flowers. 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. footfalls echo in the memory / down the passage we did not take / towards the door we never opened / into the rose garden the person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. his heart withers if it does not answer another heart. his mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration. we are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams..