Judith Guest (born March 29, 1936) is an American novelist and screenwriter. She was born in Detroit, Michigan and is the great-niece of Poet Laureate Edgar Guest (1881–1959).
Ours was not a political household, when I was growing up.
Always good to have one crazy in the family. . . It takes the pressure off everybody else.
Depending on the reality one must face, one may prefer to opt for illusion.
Make peace with what is.
I think living the blessed life is the luck of the draw.
Sometimes you are being interviewed by someone and you think, if I knew this person they'd be my best friend. Other times you're being interviewed by a complete jerk.
You have to live your life according to what comforts you, not what the rest of your family thinks you ought to be doing.
Depression is not sobbing and crying and giving vent, it is plain and simple reduction of feeling.
. . . crazy world or maybe it's just the view we have of it, looking through a crack in the door, never being able to see the whole room, the whole picture.
Geez, if I could get through to you, kiddo, that depression is not sobbing and crying and giving vent, it is plain and simple reduction of feeling. Reduction, see? Of all feeling. People who keep stiff upper lips find that it's damn hard to smile.
The small seed of despair cracks open and sends experimental tendrils upward to the fragile skin of calm holding him together.
To have a reason to get up in the morning, it is necessary to have some kind of guiding principle. A belief of some kind
It's true that every day away from work requires two more days to get back into it.
Jesus but people got weird when they lived alone.
Some people with awful cards can be successful because of how they deal with the tragedies they're handed, and that seems courageous to me.
The 'creator' and the 'editor' - two halves of the writer whole - should sleep in separate rooms.
Life is not a series of pathetic, meaningles actions. Some of them are so far from pathetic, so far from meaningless as to be beyond reason, maybe beyond forgiveness.
I notice when I'm on these trips, I read like mad. It's the only thing that seems to center me, bring me back to remembering who I am. Or forgetting who I am!
. . . the monotonous beauty of wealth.
Don't put anyone out of your heart, there's room for all.