These essays were written at various times over a thirty-year period, to express special discoveries, to serve special needs. But they all echo the same truths of explosive self-revelation and contino...
They all say the same things and nobody says anything different from anyone else.
They are so confident that they will run on for ever. But they won't run on. They don't now that this is all one huge big blazing meteor that makes a pretty fire in space, but that someday it'll have...
They began by controlling books of cartoons and then detective books and, of course, films, one way or another, one group or another, political bias, religious prejudice, union pressures; there was al...
Thinking a man good, we risk his duplicity. Thinking a man bad, we deny sanctuary.
Thinking little at all about nothing in particular.
This is a book of warning. It is a reminder that what we have is valuable, and that sometimes we take what we value for granted.
Thomas Wolfe ate the world and vomited lava. Dickens dined at a different table every hour of his life. Molière, tasting society, turned to pick up his scalpel, as did Pope and Shaw. Everywhere you lo...
Those children are right, he would have said. They stole nothing from you, my dear. These things don't belong to you here, you now. They belonged to her, that other you, so long ago. Oh, thought Mrs....
Those women like to see their tongues dance.
Thus with the wisest of you all; you are ever unfixed.
To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. Yes. A time to keep silence and a time to speak. Yes, all that. But what else. What else? Something, something . . ....
To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. Yes. A time to keep silence and a time to speak. Yes.
Ugliness is a concept that we happen on later and become self-conscious about.
Vio que la luna se hundia en el firmamento. La luna alli, y su resplandor, ¿producido por que? Por el sol, claro. ¿Y que iluminaba al sol? Su propio fuego. Y el sol sigue, dia tras dia, quemando y que...
Váyase a casa, Montang. Váyase a la cama, ¿Por qué desperdiciar sus horas finales, dando vueltas en su jaula y afirmando que no es una ardilla?
Walking, eh?’ said the officer. ‘Just walking?’ I nodded and waited for the obvious truth to sink in. ‘Well,’ said the officer, ‘don’t do it again!’ And the police car drove away.
Watch. Delicately, like the petals of a flower. Light the first page, light the second page. Each becomes a black butterfly. Beautiful, eh? Light the third page, from the second and so on, chain-smoki...
We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam. Even fireworks, for all their prettiness, come from the chemistry of the earth. Yet...
We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam.
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