Quotes About Appreciation

For how can one know colour in perpetual green, and what good is warmth without cold to give it sweetness?

I'm gonna try to learn. Gonna learn why folks walk in the grass, gonna hear 'em talk, gonna hear 'em sing. Gonna listen to kids eatin' mush. Gonna hear husban' an' wife a-poundin' the mattress in the night. Gonna eat with 'em an' learn. Gonna lay in the grass, open an' honest with anybody that'll have me. Gonna cuss an' swear an' hear the poetry of folks talkin'. All that's holy, all that's what I didn't understan'. All them things is good things.

A wife is like a children's movie; always under-appreciated and without either, life would be incomplete

She cared deeply about words and she hated their misuse as she would hate the clumsy handling of any fine thing.

They were glad and proud and humble to be men in a world where men were valuable.

What a wonderful thing a woman is. I can admire what they do even if I don't understand why.

Those people might have been murderers, sadists, brutes, ugly apish subhumans for all I knew, but I found myself thinking, "What charming people, what flair, how beautiful they are. How I wish I knew them." And all based on the delicious smell of soup.

Oh, but strawberries will never taste so good again and the thighs of women have lost their clutch!

It's a good thing to be loved, even late.

If you want to give me a present-give me a good life. That would be something I could value.

No. I won't want it ever. I would have been so happy if you could have given me—well, what your brother has—pride in the thing he's doing, gladness in his progress. Money, even clean money, doesn't stack up with that." His eyes widened a little and he said, "Have I made you angry, son? Don't be angry. If you want to give me a present—give me a good life. That would be something I could value.

Si uno tiene un tiro de caballos no pone el grito en el cielo si los tiene que alimentar cuando no están trabajando. Pero si uno tiene hombres trabajando para él, le importa un comino. Los caballos valen mucho más que los hombres.

Out of the long tunnels of his eyes Adam saw his half-brother Charles as a bright being of another species, gifted with muscle and bone, speed and alertness, quite on a different plane, to be admired as one admires the sleek lazy danger of a black leopard, not by any chance to be compared with one's self.

He loved a celebration of the human soul. Such things were like a personal triumph to him.

You bastards never owned nothing. You never planted trees an' seen 'em grow an' felt 'em with your own hands, You never owned a thing, never went out an' touched your own apple trees with your hands. What do you know?

Mack's eyes looked off into space and his lips were parted. He could see it all. "Hughie," he said, "I think you got something there. I never would of thought you could do it, but by God you really rang a duck that time.

Most people don't read the details. It's the details that astonish me.

Neden beklemiyorsun ki? Ä°leriye bak! Denizde daha iyi bal?klar var!' diyeceksiniz. Ama d??ar?dan bak?yorsunuz. Size ÅŸunu söyleyeyim ki, benim için daha iyi bal?k yok, hatta denizde baÅŸka bal?k yok. Bu bal?k olmazsa deniz ?ss?zla??r. Bunu kafan?za sokun!

All this saving a child does! At one point I even saved the box scores of an entire baseball season, both leagues, since Philadelphia played, haplessly, in both. How precious each scrap of the world appears, in our first years' experience of it! Slowly we realize that it is all disposable, including ourselves.

Harold believed that beauty was what happened between people, was in a sense the trace of what had happened, so he in truth found her, though minutely creased and puckered and sagging, more beautiful than the unused girl whose ruins she thought of herself as inhabiting. Such generosity of perception returned upon himself; as he lay with Janet, lost in praise, Harold felt as if a glowing tumor of eternal life were consuming the cells of his mortality.

We all rather live under wraps, don't we? We hardly ever really open ourselves to the loveliness around us. Yet there it is, every day, going on and on, whether we look at it or not. Such a splendid waste, isn't it?

I fish because I love to . . . because I love the environs where trout are found . . . because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last time, and I for one don't want to waste the trip . . . and, finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant––and not nearly so much fun.

I'm so lucky to be having a happy childhood as an adult.

So often we fail to acknowledge what we have because we're so concerned about what we want.