One of the curious effects of a bad hangover is that you think you're wrong whether you are or not. Not wrong in particulars, but wrong in general, wrong about everything.
I was a dog on a short chain / and now there's no chain.
The days are stacked against what we think we are.
The reason to moderate is to avoid having to quit.
It is utterly soothing to fly fish for trout. All other considerations or worries drift away and you couldn't keep them close if you wanted. Perhaps it's standing thigh deep in a river with the water passing at the exact but varying speed of life. You easily recognize this mortality and it dissipates into the landscape.
The only advice I can give to aspiring writers is don't do it unless you're willing to give your whole life to it. Red wine and garlic also helps.
My advice is, do not try to inhabit another's soul. You have your own.
Perhaps when we die our names are takenfrom us by a divine magnet and are freeto flutter here and there within the bodies of birds.I'll be a simple crowwho can reach the top of Antelope Butte.(From: Hard Times)
I was on the verge of jumping into one of those holes in life out of which we emerge a bit tattered and bloody, though we remain sure nonetheless that we had to make the jump.
What cannot be said, will get wept.
Strangely, when I totally emerged from this slump I couldn't comprehend how I had almost drowned it it.
Dad said I would always be "high minded and low waged" from reading too much Ralph Waldo Emerson. Maybe he was right.
I like grit, I like love and death, I'm tired of irony. ... A lot of good fiction is sentimental. ... The novelist who refuses sentiment refuses the full spectrum of human behavior, and then he just dries up. ... I would rather give full vent to all human loves and disappointments, and take a chance on being corny, than die a smartass.
No one else can hold your hand or take this voyage of the soul for you.
It is easy to forget that in the main we die only seven times more slowly than our dogs.
Marriage is survived just on the basis of ordinary etiquette, day in and day out. Also cooking together helps a lot.
Zen is the vehicle of reality.
All artists as a type seem to suffer a great deal, but then so do miners.
That's my only defense against this world: to build a sentence out of it.
This infantile sense of order tended to infect my life at large. Up at 5:30 a.m., coffee, oatmeal, perhaps sausage (homemade), and fresh eggs giving one of the yolks to Lola. Listening to NPR and grieving more recently over the absence of Bob Edwards who was the sound of morning as surely as birds. Reading a paragraph or two of Emerson or Loren Eiseley to raise the level of my thinking. Going out to feed the cattle if it was during our six months of bad weather.
Every day I wonder how many things I am dead wrong about. -- True North
Suits obviously had helped to promote bad government and he was as guilty as anyone for wearing them so steadfastly for twenty years. Of late he had become frightened of the government for the first time in his life, the way the structure of democracy had begun debasing people rather than enlivening them in their mutual concern. The structure was no longer concerned with the purpose for which it was designed, and a small part of the cause, Nordstrom thought, was probably that all politicians and bureaucrats wore suits.
Naturally we would prefer seven epiphanies a day and an earth not so apparently devoid of angels.
Your kids inevitably want to move where they had their vacations when they were younger.
Wherever we go we do harm, forgiving ourselves as wheels do cement for wearing each other out. We set this house on fire, forgetting that we live within. (from "To a Meadowlark," for M.L. Smoker)
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