I looked at the Branson Mo. deal but it's all old people and their parents
A common objection to inherited wealth is that it stifles the urge to work. I have not generally observed this to be true.
Maybe when I'm dead, I'll be forgiven, but I'm afraid I'll also be forgotten.
I used to go to church. I even went through a rather intense religious period when I was sixteen. But the idea of an everlasting life -- a never-ending banquet, as a stupid visiting minister to our church once appallingly described it -- filled me with a greater terror than the concept of extinction.
Perfection irritates as well as it attracts, in fiction as in life.
Only little boys and old men sneer at love.
Novels must have verisimilitude, and truth has little enough of that.
I used to sit in school and dream about getting into films.
People I didn't know formed a circle around me, sheltering me from view. They escorted me safely back to our jurta, undetected. They didn't ask for anything. They were happy to help someone, to succeed at something, even if they weren't to benefit. We'd been trying to touch the sky from the bottom of the ocean. I realized that if we boosted one another, maybe we'd get a little closer.
The more wants we have, the further we are from God, and the nearer we approach him, the better can we dispense with everything that is not Himself.
Surely the whole point of writing your own life story is to be as honest as you possibly can, revealing everything about yourself that is most private and probably most interesting for that very reason.