Words of wisdom are much more precious than any kind of treasure we can ever have. We all suffer from different kind of situations, circumstances, and feelings throughout our life, but, how many of us are able to convert their feelings into words? Surely this number is no more than 5-10 percent. I believe this is a kind of God Gifted thing that is gifted to only a few people on this earth who can transform their feelings or experiences into words because brilliant ideas come to brilliant minds. From their words, we can learn to get through our situations.
We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seems only the old are able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young, brash and impatient, must always break the silence. It is a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox.
Books are not made to be believed, but to be subjected to inquiry. When we consider a book, we mustn't ask ourselves what it says but what it means...
Vain is the hope of finding pleasure in that which one has hitherto disdained; as when the warrior hopes to find pleasure in the joys of the sedentaries.
Throw away my book: you must understand that it represents only one of a thousand attitudes. You must find your own. If someone else could have done something as well as you, dont do it. If someone else could have said something as well as you, dont say itor written something as well as you, dont write it. Grow fond only of that which you can find nowhere but in yourself, and create out of yourself, impatiently or patiently, ah! That most irreplaceable of beings.
But there is only one thing which gathers people into seditious commotion, and that is oppression
You want to take me to a movie?" i asked. "well, not really," he said. "what i really want is for you to be my girlfriend. But i thought saying that might scare you off.
Neighbors bring food with death and flowers with sickness and little things in between. Boo was our neighbor. He gave us two soap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a pair of good-luck pennies, and our lives. But neighbors give in return. We never put back into the tree what we took out of it: we had given him nothing, and it made me sad.