Good communication is just as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard to sleep after.
Not knowing how to feed the spirit, we try to muffle its demands in distraction...What matters is that one be for a time inwardly attentive.
We tend not to choose the unknown, which might be a shock or a disappointment or simply a little difficult to cope with. An yet it is the unknown with all its disappointments and surprises that is the most enriching.
A simple enough pleasure, surely, to have breakfast alone with one's husband, but how seldom married people in the midst of life achieve it.
We Americans, with our terrific emphasis on youth, action, and material success, certainly tend to belittle the afternoon of life and even to pretend it never comes. We push the clock back and try to prolong the morning, over-reaching and over-straining ourselves in the unnatural effort. ... In our breathless attempts we often miss the flowering that waits for afternoon.
The punctuation of anniversaries is terrible, like the closing of doors, one after another between you and what you want to hold on to.
When we start at the center of ourselves, we discover something worthwhile extending toward the periphery of the circle. We find again some of the joy in the now, some of the peace in the here, some of the love in me and thee which go to make up the kingdom of heaven on earth.
Nothing feeds the center of being so much as creative work. The curtain of mechanization has come down between the mind and the hand.
the final lesson of learning to be independent - widowhood ... is the hardest lesson of all.
Perhaps both men and women in America may hunger, in our material, outward, active, masculine culture, for the supposedly feminine qualities of heart, mind and spirit — qualities which are actually neither masculine nor feminine, but simply human qualities that have been neglected.
I do not like talking casually to people - it does not interest me - and most of them are unwilling to talk at all seriously.
# "I saw the most beautiful cat today. It was sitting by the side of the road, its two front feet neatly and graciously together. Then it gravely swished around its tail to completely encircle itself. It was so fit and beautifully neat, that gesture, and so self-satisfied, so complacent.
Certain springs are tapped only when you're alone.
The web of marriage is made by propinquity, in the day to day living side by side, looking outward in the same direction. It is woven in space and in time of the substance of life itself.
If one is estranged from oneself, then one is estranged from others too. If one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others.
There is no harvest for the heart alone. The seed of love must be eternally re-sown.
The beach is not the place to work; to read, write or think.
I think best with a pencil in my hand.
People talk about love as if it were something you could give, like an armful of flowers.
In general, I feel, or I have come to feel, that the richest writing comes not from the people who dedicate themselves to writing alone. I know this is contradicted again and again but I continue to feel it. They don't, of course, write as much, or as fast, but I think it is riper and more satisfying when it does come. One of the difficulties of writing or doing any kind of creative work in America seems to me to be that we put such stress on production and material results. We put a time pressure and a mass pressure on creative work which are meaningless and infantile in that field.
Why is it that you can sometimes feel the reality of people more keenly through a letter than face to face?
Flowers always have it - poise, completion, fulfillment, perfection . . .
Great problems that face the world today in both the private and the public sphere cannot be solved by women – or by men – alone. They can only be surmounted by men and women side by side.
God often used bitter experiences to make us better. Gold can be a helpful servant, but a cruel master.
For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.
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