Quotes About Life

Only in us do the dead live. Water flows downhill through us. The sun cools in our bones. We are joined with all living in one singing web of energy. In us live the dead who made us. In us live the children unborn. Breathing each other's air, drinking each other's water, eating each other's flesh, we grow like a tree from the earth.

Her life seemed to her a great engineering work scarcely begun. Lately more excavation than construction had occurred. She had lost a sense of her own invincibility. In that way she was no longer archetypically American.

Every day was a lesson in how starved the eyes could grow for hue, for reds and golds; how starved the ears could grow for conga drums, for the blare of traffic, for dogs barking, for the baseball games chattering from TVs, for foices talking flatly, conversationally, with rising excitement in Spanish, for children playing n the streets, the Puerto Rican children whose voices sounded faster, harder, than Chicano Spanish, as if there were more metal in their throats.

Every day was a lesson in how starved the eyes could grow for hue, for reds and golds; how starved the ears could grow for conga drums, for the blare of traffic, for dogs barking, for the baseball games chattering from TVs, for voices talking flatly, conversationally, with rising excitement in Spanish, for children playing in the streets, the Puerto Rican children whose voices sounded faster, harder, than Chicano Spanish, as if there were more metal in their throats.

But you say you respect difference." "Different strengths we respect. Not weakness. What is the use in not actively engaging life? It passes anyhow. She thought of the asylum. "Sometimes you have no choice.

thinking about tracking. . . . Sometime in grade school, already your fate was settled, your social class was established for the rest of your life.

We spend more time doing dishes than we do making love, but which figures prominently in the story of our lives?

Daniel felt a controlled importance, a fine passionate honing of his attention and intellect that made him impatient with his whole previous life.

In the death of every creature we have loved, we taste our own.

Life is the first gift, love is the second, and understanding, the third

I said, I like my life. If I have to give it back, if they take it from me, let me not feel I wasted any, let me not feel I forgot to love anyone I meant to love, that I forgot to give what I held in my hands, that I forgot to do some little piece of the work that wanted to come through.

No.' He spoke with a tenderness unexpected in him. 'No, lady, no. Put that clean out of your mind. That dear chap and his dog have gone, gone where the dear chaps do go, gone with a few I knew. You've got your own life and you go and live it and make a do of it, as no doubt he'd like you to. Now

When Mr. William Faraday sat down to write his memoirs after fifty-eight years of blameless inactivity he found the work of inscribing the history of his life almost as tedious as living it had been, and so, possessing a natural invention coupled with a gift for locating the easier path, he began to prevaricate a little upon the second page, working his way up to downright lying on the sixth and subsequent folios.

Life wasn't a shadow. It was a beautiful, warm, many-voiced reality, full of omnibuses and orchestras and the smell of earth after rain.

Lo real no es algo que te venga dado. Es algo que te pasa. Y ahora mismo, necesitas que te pasen cosas buenas.

The door through which he had glimpsed such wondrous light, he had walked through. He had encountered both beauty and pain. Now he understood that was how it would always be—no matter where he went in the world.

The earth's lungs, coated in green ooze and thaw, breathed out blossom-scent and sour rot and fungus-must, wet and warm and aware, where before the air had been cold and blind, remote as the moon.

Life is so long, and too hard, and then it ends so cruel and sudden!

You may never be entirely happy; few people are. You may never achieve your heart's desire in this world, for people seldom do. Sit by enough deathbeds, Branza, and you will hear your fill of stories of missed chances, and wrong turnings, and spurned opportunities for love. It is required of you only to be here, not to be happy.

You may never be entirely happy; few people are. You may never achieve your heart's desire in this world, for people seldom do. Sit be enough deathbeds, Branza, and you will hear your fill of stories of missed chances, and wrong turnings, and spurned opportunities for love.

Seals do not sit about and tell, the way people do, and their lives are not eventful in the way people's are, lines of story combed again and again, in the hope that they will yield more sense with every stroke.

I think sometimes the biggest influence isn't what's present in your life, but what's absent. Those missing pieces that shape you and change you, the silences that are louder than the noise.

Edith's mother used to say, 'An immaculate home is a sign of a misspent life.

Lucy's Rules for Living 1. Life is strange and messy and you are strange and messy. Strange and messy is beautiful. 2. We all stand on a precipice. Choose. 3. You'll always find your way home. 4. There are no rules. And if you think there are any, break them.