We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.
Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is richness of self.
Public education was not founded to give society what it wants. Quite the opposite.
The more articulate one is, the more dangerous words become.
Without darkness, nothing comes to birth, As without light, nothing flowers.
I can tell you that solitude Is not all exaltation, inner space Where the soul breathes and work can be done. Solitude exposes the nerve, Raises up ghosts. The past, never at rest, flows through it.
Do not deprive me of my age. I have earned it.
For any writer who wants to keep a journal, be alive to everything, not just to what you're feeling, but also to your pets, to flowers, to what you're reading.
A house that does not have one worn, comfy chair in it is soulless.
Anyone who is going to be a writer knows enough at fifteen to write several novels.
The moral dilemma is to make peace with the unacceptable
I feel like an inadequate machine, a machine that breaks down at crucial moments, grinds to a dreadful hault, 'won't go,' or, even worse, explodes in some innocent person's face.
Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember nothing stays the same for long, not even pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.
Words are more powerful than perhaps anyone suspects, and once deeply engraved in a child's mind, they are not easily eradicated.
At some point I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or friend, and come out with personal truth.
Now I become myself. It’s taken time, many years and places.
I feel more alive when I'm writing than I do at any other time--except maybe when I'm making love.
True feeling justifies whatever it may cost.
Where music thundered let the mind be still, Where the will triumphed let there be no will, What light revealed, now let the dark fulfill.
Routine is not a prison, but the way to freedom from time.
A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.
Wrinkles here and there seem unimportant compared to the Gestalt of the whole person I have become in this past year.
It is a waste of time to see people who have only a social surface to show. I will make every effort to find out the real person, but if I can't, then I am upset and cross. Time wasted is poison.
The most valuable thing we can do for the psyche, occasionally, is to let it rest, wander, live in the changing light of room, not try to be or do anything whatever.
It always comes back to the same necessity: go deep enough and there is a bedrock of truth, however hard.
For after all we make our faces as we go along...
Nobody stays special when they're old, Anna. That's what we have to learn.
So let the world go, but hold fast to joy.
The gift turned inward, unable to be given, becomes a heavy burden, even sometimes a kind of poison. It is as though the flow of life were backed up.
Most people have to talk so they won't hear.
