If happiness were easy, everybody would feel it all the time, and it wouldn't seem like such an elusive prize.
Perhaps that is our doom, our human curse, to never really know one another.
I do not mean to mock or ridicule your life's work, for in one way at least it mimics my own: We have dedicated our lives to the pursuit of phantoms. The difference is the nature of those phantoms. Mine exist between other men's ears; yours live solely between your own.
Have you fallen in love, Will Henry?" "That's stupid. " "What is? Love, or my question?" "I don't know. " "You don't know? You've tried that trick once. What do you suppose it will work better the second time?" "I don't love her. She bothers me. " "You have just defined the very thing you denied.
There are those who labor in the darkness, that the rest of us might live in the light.
Please, do not leave me, Will Henry. I would not survive it. You were nearly right. What Mr. Kendall was, I am always on the brink of becoming. And you - I do not pretend to know how or even why - but you pull me back from the precipice. You are the one. . . You are the one thing that keeps me Human.
Our enemy is fear. Blinding, reason-killing fear. Fear consumes the truth and poisons all the evidence, leading us to false assumptions and irrational conclusions.
If you can be your own force of nature and have a positive heart, then you can actually do something good in the world.
There are only two styles of portrait painting; the serious and the smirk.
Things people say strike me as amusing, and I am prone to saying out loud what everybody's thinking.
I don't want to look too far ahead. The journey is what's happening right now, not what's on the finishing line.