What could he say that might make sense to them? Could he say love was, above all, common cause, shared experience? That was the vital cement, wasn't it? Could he say how he felt about their all being...
What are we? he asked. Why, we are the miracle of force and matter making itself over into imagination and will. Incredible. The Life Force experimenting with forms. You for one. Me for another. The U...
What are the best things and the worst things in your life, and when are you going to get around to whispering or shouting them?
What a dreadful surprise. For everyone knows, is absolutely certain, that nothing will ever happen to me. Others die, I go on. There are no consequences and no responsibilities. Except that there are....
We went right on insulting the dead. We went right on spitting on the graves of all the poor ones who died before us...and some day we'll remember so much that we'll build the biggest Goddamn steam-sh...
We never sit anything out. We are cups, quietly and constantly being filled. The trick is knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.
We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at least one wh...
We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam.
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 all bits and pieces of history and literature and international law, Byron, Tom Paine, Machiavelli or Christ, it's here. And the hour's late. And the war's begun. And we are out here, and the c...
Was there, then, no strength in growing up? No solace in being an adult? No sanctuary in life? No fleshly citadel strong enough to withstand the scrabbling assault of midnights?
War’s never a winning thing, Charlie. You just lose all the time, and the one who loses last asks for terms. All I remember is a lot of losing and sadness and nothing good but the end of it. The end o...
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.
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...
Ugliness is a concept that we happen on later and become self-conscious about.
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.
To be asleep is to be dead. It is like death. So we dance, we dance so as not to be dead. We do not want that.
Tiene que haber algo en los libros, cosas que no podemos imaginar, para que una mujer se deje quemar viva. Tiene que haber algo. Uno no muere por nada.
This was all he wanted now. Some signs that the immense world would accept him and give him the long time he needed to think all the things that must be thought.
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.