Quotes About Clarity

The utmost accolade a writer can receive is that the reader is incognizant of his presence. The writer must put no obstacles in the reader's way. Therefore I try avoid words that he must puzzle over, or that he cannot gloss from context; and when I make up names, I shun the use of diacritical marks that he must sound out, thus halting the flow; and in general, I try to keep the sentences metrically pleasing, so that they do not obtrude upon the reader's mind.

The truth may be hard to find, but it is out there—somewhere.

At the end of the day, effective mission statements balance the possible and the impossible. They give people a clear sense of the direction to profitability and the inspiration to feel they are part of something big and important.

In real life, strategy is actually very straightforward. You pick a general direction and implement it like a hell.

The only antidote is simplicity. The simplicity of leading through truth and trust. Ceaselessly seeking the former, relentlessly building the latter. In every decision, in every action. Truth is a determined pursuit, a personal and unquenchable fire, burning to know what is really happening inside the company and out.

Reducing a complex problem to a simple chart excited the

I wish sometimes that the gods would either choose better, or make their wishes clearer

There is as much deception in noise as there is in silence

C'è perspicacia nella follia.

Le importava, le importava davvero di me, e a quell'idea non riuscivo a smettere di ridere, avendo trovato il mio inutile trionfo nella stordita follia del dolore. Anche se la foschia rossa di Kushiel mi velava la vista, anche se le fitte che provavo alla testa erano terribili, i miei pensieri erano chiari. L'equilibrio dei poteri era mutato, rendendoci, per una volta, pari.

Okay, so I wasn't entirely sure what it was or what I'd do about it if she did, but it felt good to say it.

truth has a certain buoyancy - it makes its way to the surface, in time.

If her soul were a room, it was as if a light were now shinning in a corner that had been dark.

Maisie gathered her thoughts and sought to banish the sound of nothing at all

about putting on the light in a dark room. He told me that when we keep secrets they grow inside us, and we can't see the truth of them anymore.

She knew the worries that came to the fore at night were the ones you had to pay attention to, for they blurred reasoned thought, sucked clarity from any consideration of one's situation, and could lead a mind around in circles, leaving one drained and ill-tempered. And if there was no one close with whom to discuss those concerns, they grew in importance in the imagination, whether they were rooted in good sense or not.

Maurice Blanche maintained that amid the tales, the smokescreens, and the deceptive mirrors of life's unsolved mysteries, truth resides, waiting for someone to enter its sanctum, then leave, without quite closing the door behind them. That is when truth may make its escape.

but knew that jumping to such conclusions was unwise, for it closed the mind to other possibilities. One must consider facts as if one has discovered jewels, each gem laid out on a plain surface, a clear mind, and then considered carefully before being arranged in a set.

Truth walks towards us on the paths of our questions. Maurice's voice once again echoed in her mind. As soon as you think you have the answer, you have closed the path and may miss vital new information. Wait awhile in the stillness, and do not rush to conclusions, no matter how uncomfortable the unknowing.

Truth walks towards us on the paths of our questions.

In all your getting, get understanding.

Does it sound crazy to say I looked at her and saw the world falling into some kind of order that I didn't even know it was out of?

We hear them continually on TV: hence they occur first when it is our turn to talk. In this regard, talk may be said to be the enemy of writing. If you observe yourself when on the point of writing that the word rising spontaneously to your mind is not the hard, clear words of a lover of plain speech, but this mush of counterfeits and cliches.

The blindness that opens the eye is not the one that darkens vision.