Of all the bitter and heavy things in this sorry old world, the not being necessary is the bitterest and heaviest.
the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. There is no thunder, no relieving rain. These are strange and breathless days, the dog days, when people are led to do things they are sure to be sorry for.
Nobody ought to be too old to improve: I should be sorry if I was; and I flatter myself I have already improved considerably by my travels. First, I can swallow gruel soup, egg soup, and all manner of soups, without making faces much. Secondly, I can pretty well live without tea.
I'm really sorry for people growing up right now, because they have some cockeyed idea that they can get by with their eyes closed; the cane they're tapping is money, and that won't take them in the right direction.
I am sorry for people who can't write letters. But I suspect also that you and I ... love to write them because it's kind of like working without really doing it.
I feel sorry for a culture that depends too much on delegating its musical expression to professionals. It is fine to have heroes, but we should do our own singing first, even if it is never heard beyond the shower curtain.
It's the things you don't do, not the things you do, you feel most sorry for.
I feel sorry for anyone that I am obsessed with. I am worse than gum in your hair, very, very close to the roots.
Married and unmarried women waste a great deal of time in feeling sorry for each other.
Go to a nearby military cemetery and look at the American flags stuck on each grave and think of the person buried there who was killed for global domination or for the blunders and egomania of our leadership. And remember, for every person buried there, 10 more loved that person and were shattered by the loss. Instead of saluting, softly say: 'I'm sorry.' ... We need to make Memorial Day a relic of the past.
[On whether she would want daughter Tricia to marry a politician:] I would feel sorry for her if she did.
You come to realize that life is short, and you have to step up. Don't feel sorry for me. Much is expected of those who are strong.
A child who's been injured by a parent waits her whole life for some acknowledgment of the wrong that's been done, some validation from him that her pain is real, that he's sorry and will make amends. The child will wait forever, unable to move forward, unable to forgive, without someone to acknowledge the past. In that powerlessness comes a terrible rage.
[On her husband:] The other day he woke up with a headache. I felt sorry for him. I would like to help him but I can't. I told him so many times. When he jumps out of bed - it should be feet first.
When you're more mature, you do start telling the truth, in odd situations. "I'm sorry, I've broken a glass here. Is that expensive? I'll pay for it. I'm sorry." And you do that so that people in the room might go, "What a strong personality that person has. I like to have sex with people with strong personalities."
I really feel sorry for people who think things like soap dishes or mirrors or Coke bottles are ugly, because they're surrounded by things like that all day long, and it must make them miserable.
I feel sorry for people of good heart who have never had a chance to learn the realities of Native American everything - not just our history but the sweetness and the beauty and the reasons why were so close to Mother Earth.
Hippies generally aren't busy with anything except feeling sorry for themselves.
My policy is I am always more than happy to say, "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings." What I am not willing to do is take back what I said. Unless I am wrong.
Nobody is going to feel sorry for me if I've lost a dollar or $100m.
I'm not trying to justify myself, or say I'm not sorry, or not contrite.
The feeling ("sens", Fr.) of solidarity that is born amidst a community rest on the feeling of antagonism arouse (aroused ? arose ?... sorry, - "suscité", Fr.) by those who are opposed to it. Most of the time we only adhere to a party or a group, in order to better (or more, - "pour mieux se", Fr.) differentiate ourselves of another.
Satirical writers and speakers are not half so clever as they think themselves, nor as they are thought to be. They do winnow the corn, it is true, but it is to feed upon the chaff. I am sorry to add that they who are always speaking ill of others are also very apt to be doing ill to them. It requires some talent and some generosity to find out talent and generosity in others, though nothing but self-conceit and malice are needed to discover or to imagine faults. It is much easier for an ill-natured man than for a good-natured man to be smart and witty.
I am always sorry to hear that such and such a person is going to school to be educated. This is a great mistake. If the person is to get the benefit of what we call education, he must educate himself, under the direction of the teacher.
Plato, the first true pope of philosophy (sorry, Socrates), argued for a World of Forms above the reality-a transcendent plane of perfect essences, pure and lovely, where nothing ever gets muddy (including the essence of mud.)
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