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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #south
I started out hoping to remind people at some point in the novel that we should be loving and kind. But then the theme usurped my life, spilling over into my novels until love was no longer a small voice, but now my purpose as a writer. ↗
#outer-banks #southern-fiction #southern-writers #inspirational
In the distance of my years I cover myself with time Like a blanket which enfolds me with the layers of my life. What can I tell you except that I have gone nowhere and everywhere? What can I tell you except that I have not begun my journey now that it is through? All that I ever was and am yet to be lies within me now this way. There is the Young Boy in me traveling east With the Eagle which taught me to see far and wide. The Eagle took his distance and said, There is a Time for Rising Above So that you do not think Your small world too important. There is a time for turning your vision toward the sky. There is the Young Girl in me traveling west With the Bear which taught me to look inside. The Bear stood by himself and said, There is a Time for Being Alone So that you do not take on The appearance of your friends. There is a time for being at home with yourself. There is the Old Man in me traveling north With the Buffalo which taught me wisdom. The Buffalo disappeared and said, There is a Time for Believing Nothing So that you do not speak What you have already heard. There is a Time for Keeping Quiet. There is the Old Woman in me traveling south With the Mouse which taught me my limitations. The Mouse lay close to the ground and said, There is a Time for Taking Comfort in Small Things So that you do not feel Forgotten in the night. There is a Time for enjoying the Worm. That is the way it was. That is the way it shall continue With the Eagle and the Bear With the Buffalo and the Mouse In all directions joined with me To form the circle of my life. I am an Eagle. The small world laughs at my deeds. But the great sky keeps to itself My thoughts of immortality. I am a Bear. In my solitude I resemble the wind. I blow the clouds together So they form images of my friends. I am a Buffalo. My voice echoes inside my mouth. All that I have learned in life I share with the smoke of my fire. I am a Mouse. My life is beneath my nose. Each time that I journey toward the horizon I find a hole instead. ↗
Los Angeles is a town where status is all and status is only given to success. Dukes and millionaires and playboys by the dozen may arrive and be glad-handed for a time, but they are unwise if they choose to live there because the town is, perhaps even creditably, committed to recognising only professional success, and nothing else, to be of lasting value. The burdensome obligation imposed on all its inhabitants is therefore to present themselves as successes, because otherwise they forfeit their right to respect in that environment ... There is no place in that town for the "interesting failure" or for anyone who is not determined on a life that will be shaped in a upward-heading curve. ↗
There was a time in my life when I did a fair bit of work for the tempestuous Lucretia Stewart, then editor of the American Express travel magazine, Departures. Together, we evolved a harmless satire of the slightly driveling style employed by the journalists of tourism. 'Land of Contrasts' was our shorthand for it. ('Jerusalem: an enthralling blend of old and new.' 'South Africa: a harmony in black and white.' 'Belfast, where ancient meets modern.') It was as you can see, no difficult task. I began to notice a few weeks ago that my enemies in the 'peace' movement had decided to borrow from this tattered style book. The mantra, especially in the letters to this newspaper, was: 'Afghanistan, where the world's richest country rains bombs on the world's poorest country.' Poor fools. They should never have tried to beat me at this game. What about, 'Afghanistan, where the world's most open society confronts the world's most closed one'? 'Where American women pilots kill the men who enslave women.' 'Where the world's most indiscriminate bombers are bombed by the world's most accurate ones.' 'Where the largest number of poor people applaud the bombing of their own regime.' I could go on. (I think number four may need a little work.) But there are some suggested contrasts for the 'doves' to paste into their scrapbook. Incidentally, when they look at their scrapbooks they will be able to re-read themselves saying things like, 'The bombing of Kosovo is driving the Serbs into the arms of Milosevic. ↗
Memory in these incomparable streets, in mosaics of pain and sweetness, was clear to me now, a unity at last. I remembered small and unimportant things from the past: the whispers of roommates during thunderstorms, the smell of brass polish on my fingertips, the first swim at Folly Beach in April, lightning over the Atlantic, shelling oysters at Bowen's Island during a rare Carolina snowstorm, pigeons strutting across the graveyard at St. Philip's, lawyers moving out of their offices to lunch on Broad Street, the darkness of reveille on cold winter mornings, regattas, the flash of bagpipers' tartans passing in review, blue herons on the marshes, the pressure of the chinstrap on my shako, brotherhood, shad roe at Henry's, camellias floating above water in a porcelain bowl, the scowl of Mark Santoro, and brotherhood again. ↗
We are having the single worst recovery the U.S. has had since the Great Depression. I don't care how you measure it. The East Coast knows it. The West Coast knows it. North, South, old, young, everyone knows it's the worst recovery since the Great Depression. ↗
