The creative strength is good enough and deep enough to bring itself to flower and to grow in spite of this sickness.
I can look at my books with pleasure from a distance. Four feet is close enough.
If fathers who fear fathering and run away from it could only see how little fathering is enough. Mostly, the father just needs to be there.
Why did Nature create man? Was it to show that she is big enough to make mistakes, or was it pure ignorance?
The adult May fly lives only a few hours, just long enough to mate. He has neither mouth nor stomach, but needs neither since he does not live long enough to need to eat. The eggs the May fly leaves hatch after the parent has died. What is it all about. What's the point? There is no point. That's just the way it is. It is neither good nor bad. Life is mainly simply inevitable. (41)
What does the world need that you can provide?” Express your social mission, whether it’s cause marketing, volunteering, culture, environmental initiatives, sustainable products, or corporate philanthropy Start before scale: make a commitment, take small steps and then scale when you’re ready Internalize and share your social mission Be unfailingly transparent – “If you’re not scared by what you’re saying, you’re not sharing enough
I haven't written enough songs to be able to say that I have a system. I've only written a handful.
Since childhood, I was afflicted with a sick hypersensitivity, and my imagination quickly turned everything into a memory, too quickly: sometimes one day was enough, or an interval of a few hours, or a routine change of place, for an everyday event with a lyrical value that I did not sense at the time, to become suddenly adorned with a radiant echo, the echo ordinarily reserved only for those memories which have been standing for many years in the powerful fixative of lyrical oblivion.
I want enough time to be in love with everything . . .
I'm trying to figure out if I love art enough to be poor.
What if I jumped out of an airplane with a couple of tanks of helium and one huge, un-inflated balloon? Then, while falling, I release the helium and fill the balloon. How long of a fall would I need in order for the balloon to slow me enough that I could land safely?
Little world, full of little people shouting for recognition, screaming for love, Rolling world, teeming with millions, carousel of the hungry, Is there food enough? Wheat and corn will not do. The fat are the hungriest of all, the skinny the most silent.
The responses of friendliness, compassion, and appreciation that I felt ...--all situational permutations of basic goodwill--depended on my mind's being relaxed and alert enough to notice both what was happening around me and what was happening as my internal response. [p.50]
Writer's block is just a symptom of feeling like you have nothing to say, combined with the rather weird idea that you should feel the need to say something. Why? If you have something to say, then say it. If not, enjoy the silence while it lasts. The noise will return soon enough.
I believe that one of the saddest things in the world today is that some people don't have enough food to nourish themselves. It's the 21st century and that's really not acceptable, so if I could do something that would change that I would be really happy.
The smell of roasting meat together with that of burning fruit wood and dried herbs, as voluptuous as incense in a church, is enough to turn anyone into a budding gastronome
You are never giving, nor can you ever give, enough service.
If somebody never gets enough of you, they will always want more
At Reed College, I learned very quickly that I didn't know nearly enough. I learned, first, that every student there was as smart as I was, and quite a few seemed smarter.
Was I being groomed for some special mission? What possible purpose could an existence like mine serve? When I wasn’t drinking in crappy bars, I was home by myself reading: a life that was achingly lonely, and yet perversely designed to prevent anybody from ever getting close enough to really know me.
More than anything in this world, I wish I had been born rich. It would have made up for everything. I'd still be ugly, sure, but I'd be rich and ugly. I'd still be weak and dim and tongue-tied with women, but I'd be rich enough for them not to care. I'd no longer be a social misfit, I'd be eccentric. And most of all, I'd no longer be what I was, I'd be something different.
It can sometimes be a hearbreaking struggle for us to arrive at a place where we are no longer afraid of the child inside us. We often fear that people won't take us seriously, or that they won't think us qualified enough. For the sake of being accepted, we can forget our source and put on one of the rigid masks of professionalism or conformity that society is continually offering us. The childlike part of us is the part that, like the Fool, simply does and says, without needing to qualify himself or strut his credentials.
Believe that God is strong enough to save your children, no matter how you fail.
Time is too short in this one life, to be able to do everything, but it definitely is long enough at least to be able to develop the will to do anything & everything.
School is at its best when it gives students the expectation that they will not only dream big, but dream dreams that they can work on every day until they accomplish them-not because they were chosen by a black-box process, but because they worked hard enough to reach them.
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