In tragic life, God wot, No villain need be! Passions spin the plot: We are betrayed by what is false within.
Some men live with an invisible limp, stagger, or drag a leg. Their sons are often angry.
To be wild is not to be crazy or psychotic. True wildness is a love of nature, a delight in silence, a voice free to say spontaneous things, and an exuberant curiosity in the face of the unknown.
The inner boy in a messed-up family may keep on being shamed, invaded, disappointed, and paralyzed for years and years. "I am a victim," he says, over and over; and he is. But that very identification with victimhood keeps the soul house open and available for still more invasions. Most American men today do not have enough awakened or living warriors inside to defend their soul houses. And most people, men or women, do not know what genuine outward or inward warriors would look like, or feel like.
. . . where a man's wound is, that is where his genius will be.
We did not come to remain whole. We came to lose our leaves like the trees, Trees that start again.
The door to the soul is unlocked; you do not need to please the doorkeeper, the door in front of you is yours, intended for you, and the doorkeeper obeys when spoken to.
I get in fewer arguments when I'm alone.
Not every financial company toppled during the 2008 crisis, and some seized the opportunity to take advantage of weaker competitors in the midst of the tumult.
Many a peacock hides his peacock tail from all eyes--and calls it his pride.
Slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession.