God's presence. . . is an inner experience that never changes. It's a relationship that's there all the time, even when we're not paying attention to it. Perhaps the Infinite holds us to Itself in the same way the earth does. Like gravity, if it ever stopped we would know it instantly. But it never does.
Self-pity is, perhaps, the least becoming of all emotions, and we often indulge in it only beause we are too exhausted to resist.
There are perhaps 5% of the population that simply can't think. There are another 5% who can, and do. The remaining 90% can think, but don't
I have always been an optimist, perhaps even too much.
Perhaps all human interaction is about wanting and getting.
Perhaps he was a fool, but he thought that if a work were truly great you would only have to read it once and you would be stolen from yourself, desperately moved, changed forever.
Well, well, perhaps I am a bit of a talker. A popular fellow such as I am -- my friends get round me -- we chaff, we sparkle, we tell witty stories -- and somehow my tongue gets wagging. I have the gift of conversation. I've been told I ought to have a salon, whatever that may be.
Perhaps nature is our best assurance of immortality.
Addiction is perhaps a sickness of the spirit.
Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.
Perhaps when music has been shouting for so long, a quieter voice seems attractive.
Hope itself is a species of happiness, and, perhaps, the chief happiness which this world affords; but, like all other pleasures immoderately enjoyed, the excesses of hope must be expiated by pain.
I am my brother's keeper, says the chickenshit liberal. Perhaps he does not realize that he now has more than 2 12 billion brothers.
Perhaps the greatest consolation of the oppressed is to consider themselves superior to their tyrants.
And Helvetica maybe says everything, and that's perhaps part of its appeal.
Perhaps we are in this world to search for love, find it and lose it, again and again. With each love, we are born anew, and with each love that ends we collect a new wound. I am covered with proud scars.
Love is the flowering of meditation. Meditation brings many treasures; perhaps love is the greatest roseflower that grows on the bush of meditation.
Sometimes you have to trust grownups, perhaps more so when they are not there to actually supervise you.
A man is sometimes more generous when he has but a little money than when he has plenty, perhaps through fear of being thought to have but little.
Lie is more worth living, more full of interest when you are likely to lose it. It shouldn't be, perhaps, but it is. When you're young and strong and healthy, and life stretches ahead of you, living isn't really important at all. It's young people who commit suicide easily, out of despair from love, sometimes from sheer anxiety and worry. But old people know how valuable life is and how interesting. - Jane Marple