Life is the game that must be played.
Two kinds of gratitude: The sudden kind we feel for what we take; the larger kind we feel for what we give.
The world is a kind of spiritual kindergarten where millions of bewildered infants are trying to spell "God" with the wrong blocks.
I shall have more to say when I am dead.
Shake the tree of life itself and bring down fruits unheard of.
And thus we all are nighing The truth we fear to know: Death will end our crying For friends that come and go.
Were it not for love, Poor life would be a ship not worth launching.
I cannot find my way: there is no star
In all the shrouded heavens anywhere
For when a woman is left too much alone, sooner or later she begins to think; and no man knows what then she may discover.
Your Dollar is your only Word, / The wrath of it your only fear. / You build it altars tall enough / To make you see, but your are blind; / You cannot leave it long enough / To look before you or behind.
Love must have wings to fly away from love, And to fly back again.
I don't say what God is, but a name That somehow answers us when we are driven To feel and think how little we have to do With what we are.
I am living on hope and faith ... a pretty good diet when the mind will receive them.
I have been reading the Old Testament, a most bloodthirsty and perilous book for the young. Jehovah is beyond doubt the worst character in fiction.
Poets and kings are but the clerks of Time,
Tiering the same dull webs of discontent,
Clipping the same sad alnage of the years.
Pity is like a knife, sometimes, and it may pierce one who employs it more shrewdly than the victim it would save.
Ah, when shall come love's courage to be strong!
Tell me, O Lord--tell me, O Lord, how long
Are we to keep Christ writhing on the cross!
Language that tells us, through a more or less emotional reaction,
something that can not be said.
This morning I deleted the hyphen from "hell-bound" and made it one word; this afternoon I redivided it and restored the hyphen.
Friends: people who borrow my books and set wet glasses on them.
I wonder more and more just where I may have come out if I had never seen Harvard Square.
I mean you last as long as lies.
The typical entrepreneur is no longer the bold and tireless man of Marshall, or the sly and rapacious Moneybags of Marx, but a mass of inert shareholders, indistinguishable from rentiers, who employ salaried managers to run their concerns.
Do you hear the children singing?
seizing the swift logic of a woman,
Curse God and die.
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