#ect

Wives?" she asked, interrupting him. For a moment, he had assumed she was tuning to the novel. Then he saw her waiting, suspicious eyes, so he replied cautiously, "None active," as if wives were volcanoes. ↗

— John le Carré

#circumspection #husbands #marriage #married-life #separation

The most characteristic mark of a great mind is to choose some one important object, and pursue it for life. ↗

— Anna Letitia Barbauld

#choose #great #great mind #important #life

It’s not a bad lesson to learn in the bleaker months: how you view a storm is a question of perspective; provided you find the right rock to watch it from, it could be the most incredible thing you’ll ever witness. ↗

— Dan Stevens

#life #perspective #questions #rock #storm

To accept the lively, the messy, and the unexpected things in our days, knowing that God sees them and has an eternal perspective, is to say with confidence I receive your timing. ↗

— Emily P. Freeman

#life #perspective #time #life

I only care for the subjective life; I am very German, you see: The woods interest me, and the world does not. ↗

— Ouida

#nature #subjectivity #life

7 - VI Quizá debemos aprender que lo imperfecto es otra forma de la perfección: la forma que la perfección asume para poder ser amada. ↗

— Roberto Juarroz

#life-and-living #love #life

Great artists make the roads; good teachers and good companions can point them out. But there ain't no free rides, baby. No hitchhiking. And if you want to strike out in any new direction — you go alone. With a machete in your hand and the fear of God in your heart. ↗

— Ursula K. Le Guin

#direction #life #roads #life

When I write, I am not giving a lecture, I am speculating on behavior. Sometimes this is dangerous, but it should be. As I say often, theatre is a dark place and we should keep the light out of it. ↗

— Howard Barker

#behavior #dangerous #dark #dark place #giving

Did I ever tell you that my mother and father started out as pen pals? They wrote these long, unabashedly affectionate love letters to one another, peppered with clichés and pie-in-the-sky proclamations of eternal devotion. Despite my father’s eventual dishonesty and unfaithfulness, I have to believe he meant every word he wrote at that time, and it was admittedly romantic, uncovering my parents’ yellowed letters, all soft, crumbling corners and black ink stains, one rainy afternoon. Because how can anyone scrawl lies, really, in their own handwriting, the evidence of your own betrayal right in front of you? I sat cross-legged on the floor, holding my breath as I unfolded each letter, fragile and expectant, like a little girl opening her presents on Christmas morning. I sat there and soaked up my parents’ love for each other, and then I wondered where all those feelings had escaped to. I wondered where love went when it was lost—did it travel far, across miles and oceans and forests and deserts, or did it linger somewhere nearby, just waiting for a chance to be summoned again? Wherever it was, I could only hope it had ended up settling somewhere quieter, safer. ↗

— Marla Miniano

#life #marla-miniano #reflections #life

It is a mistake to think that moving fast is the same as actually going somewhere. ↗

— Steve Goodier

#direction #life #living #speed #life