Famous Quotes Ipsum

You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus. action is eloquence. he who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying. the best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. they must be felt with the heart. once you are real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand. when i get a little money, i buy books; and, if any is left, i buy food and clothes. poetry does not necessarily have to be beautiful to stick in the depths of our memory. 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. we are wise, wise women. we are giggling girls. it's at night, when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull. i don't know if anyone has ever pointed out that great attraction of insomnia before, but it is so; the night seems to release a little more of our vast backward inheritance of instincts and feelings; as with the dawn, a little honey is allowed to ooze between the lips of the sandwich, a little of the stuff of dreams to drip into the waking mind. i wish i believed, as j. b. priestley did, that consciousness continues after disembodiment or death, not forever, but for a long while. three score years and ten is such a stingy ration of time, when there is so much time around. perhaps that's why some of us are insomniacs; night is so precious that it would be pusillanimous to sleep all through it! a "bad night" is not always a bad thing. 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. by all accounts, sex is a personally encoded communique, continually reinvented. people living deeply have no fear of death. one of the greatest discoveries a man makes, one of his great surprises, is to find he can do what he was afraid he couldn't do. 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... watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever. 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. interesting that the beliefs of others are labeled mere superstitions, mr. todd. ours we call religion. we can't all, and some of us don't. that's all there is to it. start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible. i don't think there is anything good about fame. 'tables in restaurants.' people say that but, then again, why don't you just call the day before? or go eat somewhere else? at the worst i accepted hollywood with the resignation of a ghost assigned to a haunted house. these things seem small and indistinguishable, like far-off mountains turned into clouds. 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. no pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to uncharted land or opened a new doorway for the human spirit. the universe is made of stories, not atoms. 'the horror of that moment,' the king went on,' i shall never, never forget!'<p> 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. i glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all..