A house that does not have one warm, comfy chair in it is soulless.
Where music thundered let the mind be still, Where the will triumphed let there be no will, What light revealed, now let the dark fulfill.
People who are always thinking of the feelings of others can be very destructive because they are hiding so much from themselves.
I simply adore being alone - I find it a consuming thirst - and when that thirst is slaked, then I am happy.
We are able to laugh when we achieve detachment, if only for a moment.
At any moment solitude may put on the face of loneliness.
It is harder for women, perhaps to be 'one-pointed,' much harder for them to clear space around whatever it is they want to do beyond household chores and family life. Their lives are fragmented... the cry not so much for a 'a room of one's own' as time of one's own. Conflict become acute, whatever it may be about, when there is no margin left on any day in which to try at least to resolve it.
Public education was not founded to give society what it wants. Quite the opposite.
I suppose real old age begins when one looks backward rather than forward
Is it perhaps the one necessity of love, that it be needed? And the one great human tragedy that it so rarely is?
When it comes to the important things one is always alone.
When addressed, a Gentleman Cat does not move a muscle. He looks as if he hasn't heard.
The creative person, the person who moves from an irrational source of power, has to face the fact that this power antagonizes. Under all the superficial praise of the creative is the desire to kill. It is the old war between the mystic and the nonmystic, a war to the death.
Go rich in poverty. Go rich in poetry. This nothingness is plentitude.
Lunches are just not good. They take the heart out of the day and the spaciousness from the morning's work.
Once more I realize that solitude is my element, and the reason is that extreme awareness of other people (all naturally solitary people must feel this) precludes awareness of one's self, so after a while the self no longer knows that it exists.
It's extraordinary how little two people can understand each other and how cruel two people who are fond of each other can be to each other - there is practically no cruelty so awful because their power to hurt is so great.
The hardest thing we are asked to do in this world is to remain aware of suffering, suffering about which we can do nothing.
Do we always make our freedom out of someone else's bondage?
We only keep what we lose.
It is the privilege of those who fear love to murder those who do not fear it!
What can I have that I still want?
when I am working I immediately feel hopeful.
I love giving flowers. It is so deliciously unlasting and romantic.
True power is given to the vulnerable.
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