One never tires of what is well written, style is life! It is the very blood of thought!
I had thought of writing, actually, and that later on I'd be a novelist.
Has the world ever been changed by anything save the thought and its magic vehicle the Word?
and i can't stand the idea of being alone. i can't bear the thought of being free.
The crying sounded even louder out of doors. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice. Yet had I known such pain was in the next room, and had it been dumb, I believe—I have thought since—I could have stood it well enough. It is when suffering finds a voice and sets our nerves quivering that this pity comes troubling us. But in spite of the brilliant sunlight and the green fans of the trees waving in the soothing sea-breeze, the world was a confusion, blurred with drifting black and red phantasms, until I was out of earshot of the house in the stone wall.
Who I am finally, if not the long silent part of someone, the secret and nocturnal part which has never betrayed itself in public by any thought, word, or deed, but communicates through subterranean depths of the imaginary with dreams as old as the world itself?
If so much of your experience is devoted to the thought of documentation, you're already sort of spinning out this narrative from this moment that you are attempting to control instead of just experiencing it.
I was running since I was 10. Since grade one at school people looked at me and thought, oh gosh she can really run, she's a natural.
I’m really alive! he thought. I never knew it before, or if I did I don’t remember!
All that we are is the result of what we have thought. If people speak or act with evil thoughts, pain follows them. If people speak or act with pure thoughts, happiness follows them, like a shadow that never leaves them.
By calling it a memoir, I meant is as a collection of memories. I thought it was (a more) artful (title) than documentary.
Passionate grave thought, belief enhanced, ritual returned and magic.
