At the end, excitement maintained its hysteria.
When I was growing up, we always had music playing in our household. I enjoy spending time with my father singing.
The belief that words have a meaning of their own account is a relic of primitive word magic, and it is still a part of the air we breathe in nearly every discussion.
This is true happiness: to have no ambition and to work like a horse as if you had every ambition. To live far from men, not to need them and yet to love them. To have the stars above, the land to your left and the sea to your right and to realize of a sudden that in your heart, life has accomplished its final miracle: it has become a fairy tale.
To begin to understand the gorgeous fever that is consciousness, we must try to understand the senses and what they can tell us about the ravishing world we have the privilege to inhabit.
I am learning to live close to the lives of my friends without ever seeing them. No miles of any measurement can separate your soul from mine.