What pity 'tis, one that can speak so well, Should in his actions be so ill!
Just because you don't know everything don't mean you know nothing.
I watched the early morning light pass over and through the windows of colored glass, leaving streaks of red and green and yellow on the stone floor. When I was little, I used to try and capture the colored light. I thought I could hold it in my hand and carry it home. Now I know it is like happiness-- it is there or it is not, you cannot hold it or keep it.
. . . . I cannot escape my life but can only use my determination and courage to make it the best I can.
Minds, like diapers, need occasional changing.
Seems to me home is where I am loved and safe and needed.
Seems to me God made a big mistake when He failed to put handles on watermelons.
I love being part of poetry conversations. I love talking about what I've read.
Fans don't lie. They just tell you what they really think, and they see details that even people in fashion don't.
I don't debate with liars.
When virtue is pictured as innocence and innocence equated with childlikeness, the implication is obviously that knowledge and experience are no longer media of goodness, but have become in themselves contaminating. This is a very despairing outlook, in its way as black as Augustine's original sin, for it supposes that original goodness will in all likelihood be defiled. . . It surrenders the attempt to represent virtue in a mature phase.