She has suffered so much, and that sorrows me. But she has been strong in the face of unthinkable adversity, and that inspires me.
My only armor is my belief that life has meaning and that, when my last sun has set and my last moon has risen, when the dawn comes that marks the moment when I am born with the dead, there will be mercy.
Maybe from now on the bittersweet memory of a child lost would be only the sweet memory of a child loved. And maybe, henceforth, it would not be a memory so heavy that it oppressed the heart.
The clump-and-thud of avalanching books suggested that someone must be using the weapon of knowledge in an unconventional fashion.
My only armor is my belief that life has meaning...
Endeavor to live the life.
No matter what happens, disaster piled on calamity, no matter what, everything will be okay in the long run.
A dog can be a living work of art, a constant reminder of the exquisite design and breathtaking detail of nature, beauty on four paws.
The given world dazzles with wonder, poetry, and purpose. The man-made world, on the other hand, is a perverse realm of ego and envy, where power-mad cynics make false idols of themselves and where the meek have no inheritance because they have gladly surrendered it to their idols in return not for lasting glory but for an occasional parade, not for bread but for the promise of bread.
When we are transported either by Mozart or Glenn Miller, we find ourselves in the presence of the ineffable, for which all words are so inadequate that to attempt to describe it, even with effusive praise and words of perfect beauty, is to engage in blasphemy.
Because deception requires both bold lies and lies of omission, it stains the soul, muddies the conscience, blurs the vision, and puts you at risk of headlong descent into greater darkness. As a boy, I could not have put.
Don’t worry too much about the future. The past is past. The future is an illusion. All we have is now, and we’ll get through it minute by minute.
Her direct stare probed, as if the story of my life were written in my eyes in a few succinct lines that she could read.
As a writer, Bibi, you could be a doctor of the soul.
I could live with one butt cheek – just sit at a slant for the rest of my life, not worry about how baggy the seat of my blue jeans looked, get used to the nickname Halfass – but I couldn’t live with my brains blown out.
Nothing in this world, not even the most mundane moments of our lives, is without meaning, nor is any of it lost forever.
Much of the world is beautiful, and much more is at least fair to the eye, and what might be ugly is nevertheless of the same texture as everything else and clearly belongs in the tapestry.
Instinct is an animal faculty, independent of instruction and reasoning, but far inferior to intuition, which is a grace unique to humanity.
I often resorted: buckets, brooms, garden rakes, Granny Smith apples, cats that when thrown will reliably take out their fury not on the thrower but instead on the person at whom they’re thrown. I didn’t like throwing cats or animals of any kind, as far as that goes, but every once in a while, in a life-and-death situation, there was nothing to be done but grab a cat and throw it, or an angry ferret.
I didn’t tell her that death lies dormant in each of us and will bloom in time.