It takes two hands to clap.
Each heart has its graveyard, each household its dead, And knells ring around us wherever we tread, And the feet that awhile made our pathway so bright Pass on to a land that is out of our sight.
This is every writer's nightmare - the sudden breakdown of meaning in the language that sustains and supports us.
The truth is, it's not a great career move to create a readership and then, in effect, abandon them.
There were reprints of American editorials. Liberals saw it as a resurgence of social protest and decried the discrimination, poverty, and hunger that had provoked it. Conservative columnists acidly pointed out that hungry people don't steal stereo systems first and called for a crackdown in law enforcement. All of the reasoned editorials sounded hollow in light of the perverse randomness of the event. It was as if only a thin wall of electric lighting protected the great cities of the world from total barbarism.
What, after all, is more real to us than the geography of our childhoods?
God is found in this Life. . . to wait for another is folly.
And this thesis is somewhat connected with general social and political observations, because it establishes the fact that the number of consumers is considerably larger than the number of producers, a fact which exercises a not inconsiderable social and political pressure.
I'm a lovable, harmless, lovable, little fuzzball.
I keep my mouth shut now. I've turned into a professional coward.
One way of opening ourselves up to new opportunities is to make conscious efforts to look differently at our ordinary situations. Doing so allows a person to see the world as one rife with possibility and to take advantage of some of those possibilities if they seem worth pursuing.