Science may explain how humans came into being, but it has no answer to the slippery question of how humans should live. Only literature makes it possible to pose such questions in the first place. And if there is no answer, only literature can point to the impossibility of ever finding one.
And it is a profound consolation, perhaps the only one, to this haunted animal that wastes most of a long and ghostly life wandering the future and the past on its hind legs, looking for meanings, only to see in the eyes of others of its kind that it must die.
Rather than being liberated by er sexuality, a woman’s reliance on sexual attractiveness was just one more way in which she allowed herself to be stereotyped and thus used by men
Listen to me, attend me!
And I will breathe into thee a soul,
And thou shalt live for ever.
I’m not reinventing myself. I’m finding myself. There’s a difference!
Whatever the days are, evil or not, they made us who we are, and perhaps there’s a reason for that.
Love is the gateway to cosmic energy and wisdom.
There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year’s course. Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word ‘happy’ would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness.
A strong and bitter book-sickness floods one’s soul. How ignominious to be strapped to this ponderous mass of paper, print, and dead men’s sentiments!
When you forgive, you love. And when you love, God’s light shines on you..