Stressed souls need the reassuring rhythm of self-nurturing rituals.
Poor people never, or hardly ever, ask for an explanation of all they have to put up with. They hate one another, and content themselves with that.
I was a hundred-percent sick, I felt as if I had no further use for my legs, they just hung over the edge of my bed like unimportant and rather ridiculous objects.
Most people die at the last minute; others twenty years beforehand, some even earlier. They are the wretched of the earth.
I hadn't found out yet that mankind consists of two very different races, the rich and the poor. It took me. . . and plenty of other people. . . twenty years and the war to learn to stick to my class and ask the price of things before touching them, let alone setting my heart on them.
To travel is very useful, it makes the imagination work, the rest is just delusion and pain. Our journey is entirely imaginary, which is its strength.
The mind is satisfied with phrased, but not the body, the body is more fastidious, it wants muscles. A body always tells the truth, that's why it's usually depressing and disgusting to look at.
For time not only moves inexorable forward, as the underlying grid to our personal chronicle, but is manipulated by our psychic needs and natures into various images of timelessness and timeliness. Transient moments suddenly expand, visions of infinity intervene, notes and phrases become outlets of fantasy, escape, recollection, or omen. The music travels on two planes, chronological time and psychological time. Both planes are essential and must be abundantly represented.
I found that of the senses, the eye is the most superficial, the ear the most arrogant, smell the most voluptuous, taste the most superstitious and fickle, touch the most profound and the most philosophical.
You'll be on your way up! You'll be seeing great sights! You'll join the high fliers who soar to high heights.
It lightens the stroke to draw near to Him who handles the rod.