Wild nights are my glory!
Thou cannot harm a butterfly, without troubling a star.
A great painting or symphony or play, doesn’t diminish us, but enlarges us, and we, too, want to make our own cry of affirmation to the power of Creation behind the Universe...
Silence fell between them, as tangible as the dark tree shadows that fell across their laps and that now seemed to rest upon them as heavily as though they possessed a measurable weight of their own.
Those who believe they believe in God, but without passion in the heart, without anguish of mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, and even at times without despair, believe only in the idea of God, and not in God himself.
We turn to stories and pictures and music because they show us who and what and why we are.
Stories are like children. They grow in their own way.
Euripedes. Nothing is hopeless; we must hope for everything.
It seemed to travel with her, to sweep her aloft in the power of song, so that she was moving in glory among the stars, and for a moment she, too, felt that the words Darkness and Light had no meaning, and only this melody was real.
If you’re too happy about anything, fate usually gives you a good sock in the jaw and knocks you down.
I feel as though I’m not breathing when I’m out of his presence. He’s the oxygen in my air, the sun in my universe, the staff of my life. – Jane Gardiner.
If I didn’t get fond I could be happy all the time.
Why does anybody tell a story? It does indeed have something to do with faith. Faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically.
If we aren’t capable of being hurt we aren’t capable of feeling joy.
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.”
When the work takes over, then the artist is enabled to get out of the way, not to interfere. When the work takes over, then the artist listens.
Art is communication.
Unlearning is the choice, conscious or unconscious, of any real artist. And it is the true sign of maturity.
We do have to use our minds as far as they will take us, yet acknowledging that they cannot take us all the way.
It strikes me as somewhat odd that the people who use God’s name most frequently, both in life and in literature, usually don’t believe in him.