Had I not created my whole world, I would certainly have died in other people’s.
You shall know the truth, and it will make you odd.
Language is courage: the ability to conceive a thought, to speak it, and by doing so to make it true.
Whatever you do, you need courage. Whatever course you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you that you are wrong.
Be not ashamed women, ... You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.
Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
In the world it is called Tolerance, but in hell it is called Despair...the sin that believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and remains alive because there is nothing for which it will die.
Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.
Most men would feel insulted if it were proposed to employ them in throwing stones over a wall, and then in throwing them back, merely that they might earn their wages. But many are no more worthily employed now.
A good friend will always stab you in the front.
Every relationship is fundamentally a power struggle, and the individual in power is whoever likes the other person less.
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.
A serious life, by definition, is a life one reflects on, a life one tries to make sense of and bear witness to. Truth in a memoir is achieved not through a recital of actual events; it is achieved when the reader comes to believe that the writer is working hard to engage with the experience at hand. What happened to the writer is not what matters; what matters is the large sense that the writer is able to make of what happened.
Resist much, obey little.
Sometimes we reveal ourselves when we are least like ourselves.
My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?
Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted.
Memories do not always soften with time; some grow edges like knives.
No time to grieve for roses when the forests are burning.
I never wanted to be well-rounded. I do not admire well-rounded people nor their work. So far as I can see, nothing good in the world has ever been done by well-rounded people. The good work is done by people with jagged, broken edges, because those edges cut things and leave an imprint, a design.
Integrity is doing the right thing, even when no one is watching.
Doctors most commonly get mixed up between absence of evidence and evidence of abense
In moments of crisis one is never fighting against an external enemy but always against one's own body.
I suspect the most we can hope for, and it's no small hope, is that we never give up, that we never stop giving ourselves permission to try to love and receive love.
You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.
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