Quotes About Balance

By diversifying, you become a juggler trying to keep too many balls in the air all at once.

Chaos is not dangerous until it begins to look orderly.

I am neither an optimist nor pessimist, but a possibilist.

Anxiety splits our energy between today's priorities and tomorrow's problems. Part of our mind is on the now; the rest is on the not yet. The result is half-minded living.

Oversize and rude, fear is unwilling to share the heart with happiness. Happiness complies and leaves. Do you ever see the two together? Can one be happy and afraid at the same time? Clear thinking and afraid? Confident and afraid? Merciful and afraid? No.

If I'm not saved by my works, then why work? If I'm not saved by the law, then why keep the law? If I'm not saved by what I do, then why do anything?" You've got to admit, grace is risky. There is the chance that people will take it to an extreme. There is the possibility that people will abuse God's goodness.

La fórmula es sencilla: la percepción de control produce calma. La falta de control origina temor.

discipline should result in mercy, not misery.

And if you don't succeed at home, do you succeed at all?

II y a deux sortes de gens. Il y a ceux qui vivent, jouent et meurent. Et il y a ceux qui ne font jamais rien d'autre que se tenir en équilibre sur l'arête de la vie. Il y a les acteurs. Et il y a les funambules.

Ir divu veidu cilv?ki. Ir tie, kas dz?vo, sp?l? un mirst. Un tie, kas nekad nedara neko citu, k? vien turas l?dzsvar? uz dz?ves smailes. Ir aktieri. Un ir virves dejot?ji.

Pour lui, le pinceau est un pendule entre ciel et terre, et l'art de la calligraphie la meilleure façon de se tenir en suspens entre le monde terrestre et celui des dieux.

His Good list outstripped the Evil list; Good may always preponderate in this method of reckoning.

I always forget how important the empty days are, how important it may be sometimes not to expect to produce anything, even a few lines in a journal. A day when one has not pushed oneself to the limit seems a damaged, damaging day, a sinful day. Not so! The most valuable thing one can do for the psyche, occasionally, is to let it rest, wander, live in the changing light of a room.

Machines do things very quickly and outside the natural rhythm of life, and we are indignant if a car doesn't start at the first try. So the few things that we still do, such as cooking (though there are TV dinners!), knitting, gardening, anything at all that cannot be hurried, have a very particular value.

I am here alone for the first time in weeks, to take up my real life again at last. That is what is strange - that friends, even passionate love, are not my real life unless there is time alone in which to explore and to discover what is happening or has happened. Without the interruptions, nourishing and maddening, this life would become arid. Yet I taste it fully only when I am alone here and the house and I resume old conversations.

That is what is strange—that friends, even passionate love, are not my real life unless there is time alone in which to explore and to discover what is happening or has happened. Without the interruptions, nourishing and maddening, this life would become arid. Yet I taste it fully only when I am alone…

I am here alone for the first time in weeks, to take up my "real" life again at last. That is what is strange—that friends, even passionate love, are not my real life unless there is time alone in which to explore and to discover what is happening or has happened. Without the interruptions, nourishing and maddening, this life would become arid. Yet I taste it fully only when I am alone here and "the house and I resume old conversations.

Whatever peace I know rests in the natural world, in feeling myself a part of it, even in a small way.

There is no doubt that solitude is a challenge and to maintain balance within it a precarious business. But I must not forget that, for me, being with people or even with one beloved person for any length of time without solitude is even worse. I lose my center. I feel dispersed, scattered, in pieces. I must have time alone in which to mull over any encounter, and to extract its juice, its essence, to understand what has really happened to me as a consequence of it. After

It was a painful week, swung between doubt and hope. I knew that tension well. It is just the same before I begin to write a book or a poem. It is the tension of being on the brink of a major commitment, and not being quite sure whether one has it in one to carry it through - the stage where the impossible almost exactly balances the possible, and a thistledown may shift the scales one way or another.

It is good for a professional to be reminded that his professionalism is only a husk, that the real person must remain an amateur, a lover or the work.

There was such a thing as woman's work and it consisted chiefly, Hillary sometimes thought, in being able to stand constant interruption and keep your temper.

Hilary saw life as tending always toward chaos when it seemed that all one could be asked was just to keep the ashtrays clean, the bed made, the wastebaskets emptied, as if one never got to the real things because of the constant exhausting battle to keep ordinary life from falling apart.