If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
Category: Inspirational
Total 15238 Posts
Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamppost how it feels about dogs.
So far as I can remember, there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.
Time sneaks up on you like a windshield on a bug.
The effort to understand the universe is one of the very few things that lifts human life a little above the level of farce, and gives it some of the grace of tragedy.
The reserve of modern assertions is sometimes pushed to extremes, in which the fear of being contradicted leads the writer to strip himself of almost all sense and meaning.
The folly of mistaking a paradox for a discovery, a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself for an oracle, is inborn in us.