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there are times when life’s ends are so raveled that reason and sense cry out that we stop and gather them together again before we can proceed

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Again Cry End Gather Reason Revealed Sense Stop Together

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

I was leaving the South to fling myself into the unknown . . .
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We smelted iron, danced, made music and folk poems; we sculpted, worked in glass, spun cotton and wool, wove baskets and cloth.
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Anything seemed possible, likely, feasible, because I wanted everything to be possible… Because I had no power to make things happen outside of me in the objective world.
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And they do not know why; they are powerless pawns in a blind play of social forces.
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I did not know if the story was factually true or not, but it was emotionally true […].
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Reluctantly, he comes to the conclusion that to account for his book is to account for his life.
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We had our own literature, our own systems of law, religion, medicine, science, and education.
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Make up your mind, Snail! You are half inside your house, And halfway out!
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Whenever my environment had failed to support or nourish me, I had clutched at books.
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Kill them, turn back time to the moment before I had talked so that I could have another chance to save myself.
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He had lived and acted on the assumption that he was alone, and now he saw that he had not been. What he had done made others suffer.
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It would have been impossible for me to have told anyone what I derived from these novels, for it was nothing less than a sense of life itself.
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Reading was like a drug, a dope. The novels created moods in which I lived for days.
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