Friday, June 12, 2015
Thoughts for a Friday afternoon.
The memory of most men is an abandoned cemetery where lie, unsung and unhonored, the dead whom they have ceased to cherish. ~ Marguerite Yourcenar.
No one has ever become poor by giving. ~Anne Frank
I never saw an ugly thing in my life; for let the form of an object be what it may, — light, shade, and perspective will always make it beautiful. ~Jon Constable
The ideal scientist thinks like a poet and only later works like a bookkeeper. ~ E.O. Wilson.
While language is forming, writers are applauded for extending its limits; when established for restricting themselves to them. ~Isaac Disraeli.
If you break your neck, if you have nothing to eat, if your house is on fire, then you've got a problem. Everything else is an inconvenience. Life is inconvenient. Life is lumpy. A lump in the oatmeal, a lump in the throat, and a lump in the breast are not in the same kind of lump. One needs to learn the difference. ~Robert Fulghum
The business of the poet and the novelist is to show the sorriness underlying the grandest things and the grandeur of the sorriest things. ~Thomas Hardy
In words are seen the state of mind and character and disposition of the speaker. ~Plutarch
How simple life becomes when things like mirrors are forgotten. ~ Daphne du Maurier
Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence. ~Hal Borland.
For those of us who write, the last sentiment is particularly on point.
Posted by Unknown at Friday, June 12, 2015