The problem with the world is that we keep paying attention to the first hundred meters of everything. Everyone and everything I’ve ever known is at least 12 miles.
Writing is at least one occupation in which you are constantly responsible for what does not belong to you.
I need some activity that lasts me until sunset to invigorate that quiet unmoving hour, eye level with God and light.
It gives him pain, they say, and all they mean is he is timid.
If what God said were more vigorous, more athletic, more muscular, then my strength would know how to listen to it. Now only my weakness does–and my weakness is hardly capable of anything.7
We need trees there. If there are no trees there, no one will dance…
It’s not that we disagree with your being mad. We just didn’t know you knew how. And why you never showed us before.
You would think that between all the generations we would manage to set each other straight, find a way somehow to justify and make each other better. Instead, we stand entirely unconvinced of one another.