The spaces between the perceiver and the thing perceived can [...] be closed with a shout of recognition.
My whole life is out here-the whole of my life...I'd come here naked, as a boy-straight from that river out there-throw my clothes on the floor and climb into that loft and lie there dreaming in the h...
I've never met—have you?—a truly sophisticated man. World-weary and discreet—of course. But never sophisticated.
Светът, каза той, свършва всеки ден – и започва на следващия
I can't work in a house where there's saints. The minute there's saints, the devil sends messengers
In the dark that followed - Lucy said; where I was born, the trees were always in the sun. And I left that place because it was intolerant of rain. Now, we are here in a place where there are no trees...
... too much brooding, not enough doing.
Only one deaf God, who cannot see, remains—claiming all of creation as His own. If people would invest one hundredth of their devotion to this God in the living brothers and sisters amongst whom they...
The occupants of memory have to be protected from strangers.
Think of any great man or woman. How can you separate them from the years in which they lived? You can't. Their greatness lies in their response to that moment.
Mrs Ross adjusted her veil but did not put the flask away... 'Why is this happening to us, Davenport? What does it mean - to kill your children? Kill them and then go in there and sing about it! What...
Go, he said; in peace. And sing with the whales.
He said that in a way being loved is like being told you never have to die.
So far, you have read of the deaths of 557,017 people – one of whom was killed by a streetcar, one of whom died of bronchitis and one of whom died in a barn with her rabbits.
Complaints about reality are immature.
Happiness is not our goal. The achievement of happiness deflects us from our true destiny which is the utter realization of self.
He took his aim. His arm wavered. His eyes burned with sweat. Why didn't someone come and jump on his back and make him stop?He fired.A chair fell over in his mind.
Ede had been pregnant not quite the full term: eight months, two weeks, four days. She had lapsed into an extended silence - partly because she was still in mourning - still enraged and afraid of spee...
1915. The year itself looks sepia and soiled-muddied like its pictures. In the snapshots everyone at first seems timid-lost-irresolute. Boys and men squinting at the camera.
Frederick?Had she really spoken? Certainly she'd tried, but her voice had failed to materialize and all she heard was the sound of her nightgown ripping as Frederick pulled it over her head and threw...
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