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Everything Tolstoy wrote is precious, but I found this final statement of the truth about life as he had come to understand it particularly beautiful and moving. 'That is what I have wanted to say to you, my brothers. Before I died.' So he concludes, giving one a vivid sense of the old man, pen in hand and bent over the paper, his forehead wrinkled into a look of puzzlement very characteristic of him, as though he were perpetually wondering how others could fail to see what was to him so clear - that the law of love explained all mysteries and invalidated all other laws.
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What shall I do unto this people? they be almost ready to stone me.
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Find what you're best at and exaggerate it.
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In Lubbock, we grew up with two main things: God loves you and he's gonna send you to hell, and that sex is bad and dirty and nasty and awful and you should save it for the one you love.
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The possibilities for mobilizing the experience, imaginations, and intelligence of workers, both employed and unemployed, are limitless.
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The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.
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Daggers ever at the ready, I went about the day: children fed, linens mended, bedclothes aired. In little ways one conquers fear.
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I did a lot of talking - not as much background talking as a lot of people because I've never been someone who is too afraid of saying what I feel. I just don't see any reason to.
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We must err , do so on the side of audacity
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There is nothing wrong with listening. You can listen to people; you can hear people's concerns. You can keep an open mind and still be perfectly strong.
