There is simply no dignified way for a woman to live alone. Oh, she can get along financially perhaps (though not nearly as well as a man), but emotionally she is never left in peace. Her friends, her family, her fellow workers never let her forget that her husbandlessness, her childlessness -- her selfishness, in short -- is a reproach to the American way of life.
There is something else which has the power to awaken us to the truth. It is the works of writers of genius. They give us, in the guise of fiction, something equivalent to the actual density of the real, that density which life offers us every day but which we are unable to grasp because we are amusing ourselves with lies.
There is timing in the whole life of the warrior, in his thriving and declining, in his harmony and discord. Similarly, there is timing in the Way of the merchant, in the rise and fall of capital. All things entail rising and falling timing. You must be able to discern this.
There isn't much better in this life than finding a way to spend a few hours in conversation with people you respect and love. You have to carve this time out of your life because you aren't really living without it.
There isnt much better in this life than finding a way to spend a few hours in conversation with people you respect and love. You have to carve this time out of your life because you arent really living without it.
There may be a point in your life in which you are drowning so fast and fighting it so furiously that you don’t have the strength left to call out for help. At that point don’t expect one of your friends to jump into the water, if you've spent most of your life instructing them to mind their own business.
there will always be pressures and time sin your life when you'll need answers, but coke and the rest offer nothing -- no outlet, no information. And, believe me, you're only as good as your information.
There's a theory, one I find persuasive, that the quest for knowledge is, at bottom, the search for the answer to the question: Where was I before I was born. In the beginning was what? Perhaps, in the beginning, there was a curious room, a room like this one, crammed with wonders; and now the room and all it contains are forbidden you, although it was made just for you, had been prepared for you since time began, and you will spend all your life trying to remember it.
There's often no way you can look into the game of life and determine whether or not you'll get that big break tomorrow or whether it will take another week, month, year or even longer. But it will come