We do not know and cannot tell when the spirit is with us. Great talent or small, it makes no difference. We are caught within our own skins, our own sensibilities; we never know if our technique has been adequate to the vision.
When the bright angel dominates, out comes a great work of art, a Michelangelo David or a Beethoven symphony.
If I didn't get fond I could be happy all the time.
Maybe the theatre isn't any place for a reasonable human being after all. It keeps your emotions in such a constant state of upheaval. It's really terribly wearing. I wonder if I could stand it, one emotional upset after the other just going on and on for the rest of my life.
It takes too much energy to be against something unless it's really important.
I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius, or something very small, comes to the artist and says, "Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me."
There is little character or loveliness in the face of someone who has shunned risk, avoided suffering and rejected life
Hate hurts the hater more'n the hated.
Be aware that rigidity imprisons.
poets are born knowing the language of angels
Love is the one surprise.
you've got to learn to walk through a pigpen and not get dirty.
To grow up is to accept vulnerability. To be alive is to be vulnerable.
Anything that's natural can't be sinful-it may be inconvenient, but it's not sinful.
We human beings grow through our failures, not our virtues.
To refuse to respond is in itself a response.
It was not an end, it was a beginging
And I can't say it now. I can't say what I want to say. I hold you-- I-- I clutch you, because I love you so desperately, and time is so short, we have such a little time in which to live and be young, even at best, and I put my arms around you and hold you because I want to love you while I can and I want to know I'm loving you, only it doesn't mean anything because you aren't afraid. You aren't frightened so that you want to clutch it all while you can.
An artist is someone who cannot rest, who can never rest as long as there is one suffering creature in the world.
We are suspicious of grace. We are afraid of the very lavishness of the gift.
Because I am a storyteller I live by words. Perhaps music is a purer art form. It may be that when we communicate with life on another planet, it will be through music, not through language or words.
The images were gone, but Calvin was there, was with her, was part of her. She had moved beyond knowing him in sensory images to that place which is beyond images. Now she was kything Calvin, not red hair, or freckles, or eager blue eyes, or the glowing smile; nor was she hearing the deep voice with the occasional treble cracking; not any of this, but - Calvin. She was with Calvin, kything with every atom of her being, returning to him all the fortitude and endurance and hope which he had given her.
You don't want him for a reason. You want him because he's your father.
The medieval mystics say the true image and the true real met once and for all on the cross: once and for all: and yet they still meet daily.
A great piece of literature does not try to coerce you to believe it or agree with it. A great piece of literature simply is . It is a vehicle of truth, but it is not a blueprint, and we tend to confuse the two.
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