All that writers can do is keep trying to say what is deepest in their hearts.
There are those,” he said gently, “who must first learn loss, despair, and grief. Of all paths to wisdom, this is the cruelest and longest. Are you one who must follow such a way? This even I cannot know. If you are, take heart nonetheless. Those who reach the end do more than gain wisdom. As rough wool becomes cloth, and crude clay a vessel, so do they change and fashion wisdom for others, and what they give back is greater than what they won.
I knew something was wrong when you started being so polite.
Some days are like that... and what’s to be done about it? Nothing, alas, but hope things will brighten, which they very likely won’t. But there you are, it’s all one can do.
But it’s very thoughtful of you to say that. It shows a kind heart, and I think that’s so much more important than being clever.
I can’t imagine why knowledge, truth and love should be so much of a secret.
Whereas, it is hereby decreed to all felines of the Middle Kingdom: They are enjoined to observe every provision of the judicial codes unless such provisions aforesaid have been abrogated heretofore, though any abrogation is liable to reinstatement at any time whatever and shall be effective retroactively without recourse on behalf of said felines whether or not said felines are presently or will be engaged in litigation. This decree is not susceptible to appeal.
She was not stunningly beautiful. She could be pretty when she felt like it.
There is a part of us in everyone else.
What is the use of studying much when I’m to see nothing at all?
I, too, shall seek honor. But I shall seek it where I know it will be found.
True kinship has naught to do with blood ties, however strong they be. I think we are all kin, brothers and sisters one to the other, all children of all parents.
Nothing we do is ever done entirely alone. There is a part of us in everyone else – you, of all people, should know that. From what I hear, you have been as impetuous as your friend Fflewddur; I have been told, among other things, of a night when you dove head first into a thornbush. And you have certainly felt as sorry for yourself as Gurgi; and, like Doli, striven for the impossible.
It is not given to men to know the ends of their journeys,” Medwyn answered. “It may be that you will never return to the places dearest to you. But how can that matter, if what you must do is here and now?
This is meant to be a serious tale- in the way that all humor is serious and all fantasy is true- and if there is no conventionally happy ending in fairy-tale terms, there is still a most hopeful ending in human terms.
I make nonsense of the world to help others make sense of it.
Is there not glory enough in living the days given to us?
I’ve heard men complain of doing woman’s work, and women complain of doing man’s work, but I’ve never heard the work complain of who did it, so long as it got done!
Hwoinch!’ said Hen Wen.
Then we must say farewell,” answered the weaver-woman. “But mind you,” she added, in her usual sharp tone, “if life is a loom, the pattern you weave is not so easily unraveled.
My joy is in the craft, not the gain.