I'll privily away; I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes; Though it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and aves vehement, Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does not affect it.
The wind shows us how close to the edge we are.
To cure jealousy is to see it for what it is, a dissatisfaction with self.
we are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. as we were. as we are no longer. as we will one day not be at all.
I don't think anybody feels like they're a good parent. Or if people think they're good parents, they ought to think again.
The ability to think for one's self depends upon one's mastery of the language.
Was there ever in anyone's life span a point free in time, devoid of memory, a night when choice was any more than the sum of all the choices gone before?
We are enabled to apprehend at all what is sublime and noble only by the perpetual instilling and drenching of the reality that surrounds us. We can never have enough of nature.
I support the protection of life from conception to natural death. But a natural death for a murderer is a death on the gallows.
He was his own leftover, the spat-out scrag. He was what his brain could make nothing of.
My first official consulting job, therefore, was for a scrap metal dealer (he resented the term "junk dealer") in East Edmonton named Benny Sugarman.