Quotes About Understanding

The one who plants a tree knowing he may never sit in its shade has learnt a little about life.

Nic, co se týká ?lovÄ›ka, není jasné. Slovo, které má ve slovníku jediný význam, dostává v lidském životÄ› význam? sedm - jako když se Ganga rozdÄ›lí, než se vleje do moÃ…â"¢e.

Everyone's nature is not alike. Because you have found your convictions within yourself and can take refuge in your own strength, you fail to realize the predicament of others.

LOVE! when you come with the burning lamp of pain in your hand, I can see your face and know you as bliss.

I thought I would write love's words in their own colour; but that lies deep in the heart, and tears are pale. Would you know them, friend, if the words were colourless? I thought I would sing love's words to their own tune, but that sounds only in my heart, and my eyes are silent. Would you know them, friend, if there were no tune?

In this world of human affairs there is no worse nuisance than a boy at the age of fourteen. He is neither ornamental nor useful. It is impossible to shower affection on him as on a little boy; and he is always getting in the way. If he talks with a childish lisp he is called a baby, and if he answers in a grown-up way he is called impertinent. In fact any talk at all from him is resented.

What a strange tune is this, that comes out of the music of Spring. It seems like the tune of yellow leaves. Spring has stored up its tears in secret for us all this while. It was afraid we should not understand it, because we were so youthful. It wanted to beguile us with smiles. But we shall sleep our hearts tonight in the sadness of the other shore.

Love's gift cannot be given, it waits to be accepted.

Don't limit a child to your own learning, for she was born in another time.

The child gets two confusing messages when a parent tells him which is the right fork to use, and then proceeds to use the wrong one. So does the child who listens to parents bicker and fuss, yet is told to be nice to his brothers and sisters.

As human beings, we tend to describe our vast universe and complicated emotions by comparing them to things we already know and comprehend. And many of us suffer by comparison.

The discipline of the writer is to learn to be still and listen to what his subject has to tell him.

The aim of science is to discover and illuminate truth. And that, I take it, is the aim of literature, whether biography or history... It seems to me, then, that there can be no separate literature of science.

It's bullshit to think of friendship and romance as being different. They're not. They're just variations of the same love. Variations of the same desire to be close.

Prayer or not, I want to believe that, despite all evidence to the contrary, it is possible for anyone to find that one special person. That person to spend Christmas with or grow old with or just to take a nice silly walk in Central Park with. Somebody who wouldn't judge another for the prepositions they dangle, or their run-on sentences, and who in turn wouldn't be judged for the snobbery of their language etymology inclinations.

I probably didn't share his feelings – he hoped, really, that I didn't – but he was no longer interested in socialising; in fact, increasingly he found other people positively bewildering. The interesting ones are like islands, he said: you don't bump into them on the street or at a party, you have to know where they are and go to them by arrangement.

I had found out more, I said, by listening than I had ever thought possible.

I'm not the kind of woman who intuitively understands or sympathises with other women, probably because I don't understand or sympathise all that much with myself.

It is hard to listen while you were talking.

He began to ask me questions, as though he had learned to remind himself to do so, and I wondered what or who had taught him that lesson, which many people never learn.

He has not asked them one question about themselves: she and Claudia do not exist for him, they are just lines of perspective, ways for him to measure his location in space.

mutual frankness that she could work out who she herself was and what she actually wanted.

And saying you love him is the same as saying you don't want to know what he really thinks of you. If you talked to him,' she said, 'you would find out.

Suffering had always appeared to me as an opportunity, I said, and I wasn't sure I would ever discover whether this was true and if so why it was, because so far I had failed to understand what it might be an opportunity for.