But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope. ― George Eliot, Middlemarch. (Signet 2004) Originally published 1871. Advertisements
Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around – nobody big, I mean – except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if… Continue reading J. D. Salinger
Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky
I think that one of these days you’re going to have to find out where you want to go. And then you’ve got to start going there. — J. D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye. (Back Bay Books; Reissue edition January 30, 2001) Originally published 1951.
I think I could stand anything, any suffering, only to be able to say and to repeat to myself every moment, ‘I exist.’ In thousands of agonies — I exist. I’m tormented on the rack — but I exist! Though I sit alone in a pillar — I exist! I see the sun, and if… Continue reading Fyodor Dostoyevsky
I often feel like I want to think something but I can’t find the language that coincides with the thoughts, so it remains felt, not thought. — Peter Cameron, Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You; A Novel (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2007)
I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape—the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show. — Andrew Wyeth