Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.
Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.
One must be thrust out of a finished cycle in life and that leap is the most difficult to make-to part with one’s faith one’s love when one would prefer to renew the faith and recreate the passion.
When you make a world tolerable for yourself you make a world tolerable for others.
Each friend represents a world in us a world possibly not born until they arrive and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.
[Families] are made to make you forget yourself occasionally so that the beautiful balance of life is not destroyed.
I cannot concentrate all my friendship on any single one of my friends because no one is complete enough in himself.
I will not be just a tourist in the world of images just watching images passing by which I cannot live in make love to possess as permanent sources of joy and ecstasy.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds it dies of weariness of withering of tarnishing.
I was thinking of my patients and how the worst moment for them was when they discovered they were masters of bad or good luck. When they could no longer blame fate they were in despair.
I don’t tell the truth any more to those who can’t make use of it. I tell it mostly to myself because it always changes me.
She lacks confidence she craves admiration insatiably. She lives on the reflections of herself in the eyes of others. She does not dare to be herself.
I postpone death by living by suffering by error by risking by giving by losing.
She lacks confidence she craves admiration insatiably. She lives on the reflections of herself in the eyes of others. She does not dare to be herself.
Beware of allowing a tactless word rebuttal a rejection to obliterate the whole sky.
There is not one big cosmic meaning for all there is only the meaning we each give to our life an individual meaning an individual plot like an individual novel a book for each person.
One must be thrust out of a finished cycle in life and that leap is the most difficult to make-to part with one’s faith one’s love when one would prefer to renew the faith and recreate the passion.
There are very few human beings who receive the truth complete and staggering by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment on a small scale by successive developments cellularly like a laborious mosaic.
A war regarded as inevitable or even probable and therefore much prepared for has a very good chance of eventually being fought.
It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene and as if by magic we see a new meaning in it.
Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious, and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together.
Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.
We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.
I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.
Life is truly known only to those who suffer, lose, endure adversity and stumble from defeat to defeat.
Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.
A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked.
When we blindly adopt a religion, a political system, a literary dogma, we become automatons. We cease to grow.
How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself.
Truth is something which can’t be told in a few words. Those who simplify the universe only reduce the expansion of its meaning.
There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend reality by imagination, as I try to do.
It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.
Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.
What I cannot love, I overlook. Is that real friendship?
I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slavery to a pattern.