As mankind becomes more enlightened to know their real interests, they will esteem the value of agriculture; they will find it in their natural – their destined occupation.
It is in the relaxation of security; it is in the expansion of prosperity; it is in the hour of dilatation of the heart, and of its softening into festivity and pleasure, that the real character of men is discerned.
I am convinced that we have a degree of delight, and that no small one, in the real misfortunes and pain of others.
What is it we all seek for in an election? To answer its real purposes, you must first possess the means of knowing the fitness of your man; and then you must retain some hold upon him by personal obligation or dependence.
What is necessary is not to seek after some fantastic ideal, utterly unsuited to our real needs, but to discover the true nature of those needs, to fulfill them, and rejoice therein.
There’s the story, then there’s the real story, then there’s the story of how the story came to be told. Then there’s what you leave out of the story. Which is part of the story too.
History, as I recall, was never this winsome, and especially not this clean, but the real thing would never sell: most people prefer a past in which nothing smells.
What is the real breath of a man – the breathing out or the breathing in?
Not real can tell us about real.
Imagine a famine. Now imagine a piece of bread. Both of these things are real but you happen to be in the same room with only one of them. Put yourself into a different room, that’s what the mind is for.
A reader can never tell if it’s a real thimble or an imaginary thimble, because by the time you’re reading it, they’re the same. It’s a thimble. It’s in the book.
The real stars of society are tired of appearing there. He who is curious to gaze at them must often migrate to another hemisphere, where they are more or less alone.
How else learn the real, if not by inventing what might lie outside it?
Under each station of the real, another glimmers.
The stellar universe is not so difficult to understand as the real actions of other people, especially of the people with whom we are in love.
The suffering itself is not so bad; it’s the resentment against suffering that is the real pain.
The real America that Whitman proclaimed and Thoreau decoded.
Because systems of mass communication can communicate only officially acceptable levels of reality, no one can know the extent of the secret unconscious life. No one in America can know what will happen. No one is in real control.
I want to be a saint, a real saint while I am young, for there is so much work to do.
Religion, a medieval form of unreason, when combined with modern weaponry becomes a real threat to our freedoms. This religious totalitarianism has caused a deadly mutation in the heart of Islam and we see the tragic consequences in Paris today.