Civilization is faces, appearances: when these collapse, civilization collapses as well.
Because we are linked by blood and blood is memory without language.
Acting is the loneliest profession I know.
A hero can be fool, he's still a hero.
; so too, her glazed ceramics and her macramé are interchangeable with those executed by her women friends in the area, who take courses at the Mill Brook Valley Arts Co-op and whose houses are gradua...
Lionel turned his thoughts eagerly inward, to discover that inward was perilous, too; his soul was a sort of curved reflective surface that distorts, as in a funhouse mirror, the face of one peering i...
Her Quaker instincts led her to apologize for wrongs not her own to minimize conflict.
Yet the greening grasses and overarching elms and oaks, just beginning to come into leaf, gave the scene a picturesque air, like a fairy-tale dwelling;
Unless it was enough for these worshipers to bask in the knowledge that, though invisible to them and in every way inaccessible to them, the swarthy handsome Ex-Athlete and the beautiful Blond Actress...
It might be argued that our lives are a concatenation of minutiae interrupted at unpredictable times by significant events.
Is joy in life, a terrible joy. There is joy for the taking if you are not afraid.
Didn't thankdidn't wave goodbyedidn't flutter the air with kissesa mound of gifts unwrappedbed unmadeno appetitealways elsewherethough it was raining elsewherethough strangers peopled the streetsthoug...
You may put this in your interview, Miss Fife, that Robert Frost believes in civilization—which is to say the Caucasian civilization. But,
You don’t understand! Gilbert turned his back on me, but he wouldn’t have turned his back on God. Ariah
You can think of your life as the mistakes you made that catch up with you finally.
Willy was more forceful, as Annabel seemed to glide;
When there is no longer any point in lying, no one will lie
What madness! Yet she would do it, if she could force herself. She'd become, she believed, a stronger person: a willful, resolute. Like the man who adored her, reckless.
What is destiny—a mechanical fact, a theoretical possibility, a concept, a superstition, a mere word? Ian McCullough was inclined to think one or another of these depending upon his mood. Destiny, the...
Você pode fingir ser quase tudo que não é, há pouquíssimas coisas que de fato se pode ser.