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The heart of a hurt child can shrink so that forever afterward it is hard and pitted as the seed of a peach. Or again, the heart of such a child may fester and swell until it is a misery to carry within the body, easily chafed and hurt by the most ordinary things.

Carson McCullers

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Child Heart Nody Ordinary Peach Seed Shrink Swell Thing Until

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Falling in love is the easiest thing in the world. It’s standing in love that matters.
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To know who you are, you have to have a place to come from.
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But you haven’t never loved God nor even nair person. You hard and tough as cowhide. But just the same I knows you. This afternoon you going to roam all over the place without never being satisfied.
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The heart of a hurt child can shrink so that forever afterward it is hard and pitted as the seed of a peach. Or again, the heart of such a child may fester and swell until it is a misery to carry within the body, easily chafed and hurt by the most ordinary things.
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It is music that causes the heart to broaden and the listener to grow cold with ecstasy and fright.
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The Heart is a lonely hunter with only one desire!
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Day and night she had drudged and struggled and thrown her soul into her work, and there was not much of her left over for anything else.
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For in a swift radiance of illumination he saw a glimpse of human struggle and valor. Of the endless fluid passage of the humanity through endless time. And of those who labor and of those who – one word- love. His soul expanded. But for a moment only. For in him, he felt a warning, a shaft of terror.
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Wherever you look there’s meanness and corruption. This room, this bottle of grape wine, these fruits in the basket, are all products of profit and loss.
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Writing, for me, is a search for God.
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Love is the bridge that leads from the I sense to the We, and there is a paradox about personal love.
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Imagination takes humility, love and great courage.
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I´m a stranger in a strange land.
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The memories of childhood have a strange shuttling quality, and areas of darkness ring the spaces of light.
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Through the lies, she lived vicariously. The lies doubled the little of her existence that was left over from work and augmented the little rag end of her personal life.
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Can you wonder it is so miserable? Do you know how men should love? A tree. A rock. A cloud.
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Owing to the fact he was a mute they were able to give him all the qualities they wanted him to have.
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But look what the Church has done to Jesus during the last two thousand years. What they have made of Him. How they have turned every word He spoke for their own vile ends. Jesus would be framed and in jail if he was living today.
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I once wrote a story about a writer who could not write anymore, and my friend Tennessee Williams said, ‘How could you dare write that story, it’s the most frightening work I have ever read.’ I was pretty well sunk while I was writing it.
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We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange.
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The closest thing to being cared for is to care for someone else.
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What are the sources of an illumination? To me, they come after hours of searching and keeping my soul ready. Yet they come in a flash, as a religious phenomenon.
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His own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.
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Being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. If she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things.
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Resentment is the most precious flower of poverty.
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Comparing the Brooklyn that I know with Manhattan is like comparing a comfortable and complacent duenna to her more brilliant and neurotic sister.
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Love is the main generator of all good writing… Love, passion, compassion, are all welded together.
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