J.S. Strange Quotes
Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.
There is no such thing as helplessness. It's just another word for giving up.
Ask not of things to shed their veils. Unveil yourselves, and things will be unveiled.
How much more infinite a sea is man? Be not so childish as to measure him from head to foot and think you have found his borders.
Once you tell your first lie, the first time you lie for him, you are in it with him, and then you are lost.
The more elaborate his labyrinths, the further from the Sun his face.
Thinking doesn't pay. Just makes you discontented with what you see around you.
So think as if your every thought were to be etched in fire upon the sky for all and everything to see. For so, in truth, it is.
We don't want to focus on the trees (or their leaves) at the expense of the forest.
But if there must be an end, let it be loud. Let it be bloody. Better to burn than to wither away in the dark.
The right mixture of caring and not caring - I suppose that's what love is.
The Edge... There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.
If you've got the truth you can demonstrate it. Talking doesn't prove it.
There is not much mental distance between a feeling of having been screwed and the ethic of total retaliation, or at least the kind of random revenge that comes with outraging the public decency.
The golden sunshine of Italy congealed into tears. Here's to alcoholic brotherhood ... much more suited to the frail human soul, if any, than any other sort.
Time and I have quarrelled. All hours are midnight now. I had a clock and a watch, but I destroyed them both. I could not bear the way they mocked me.
The Fall is where the nation is. The Fall is the locus of America.
You must suffer me to go my own dark way.
His was not a small mind bothered by logic and consistency.
But goodness alone is never enough. A hard, cold wisdom is required for goodness to accomplish good. Goodness without wisdom always accomplishes evil.
English is capable of defining sentiments that the human nervous system is quite incapable of experiencing.
Most neuroses and some psychoses can be traced to the unnecessary and unhealthy habit of daily wallowing in the troubles and sins of five billion strangers.
Literature itself is a species of code. You line up symbols and create a simulacrum of life.
The world changes too fast. You take your eyes off something that's always been there, and the next minute it's just a memory.
It was a gift, something you can't teach. His hands looked like they were born to have a golf club in them.
Under pressure, one of the most important things I have to remember to do is breathe.
Like every living thing its prime characteristic is a blind, unreasoned instinct to survive.
It's almost as if each instant is our last and first. We are always dying, and always reborn. And that is living.
And off in the far distance, the gold on the wings of the angel atop the bell tower of San Marco flashed in the sun, bathing the entire city in its glistening benediction.
Death isn't funny." "Then why are there so many jokes about death? Jill, with us — us humans — death is so sad that we must laugh at it.
Government! Three fourths parasitic and the other fourth Stupid fumbling.
I do know that the slickest way to lie is to tell the right amount of truth--then shut up.
Most true things are kind of corny, don’t you think? But we make them more sophisticated out of sheer embarrassment.
Indeed. I have often thought that when a man selects one word over another he often reveals far more of himself than he intended.
Oh, you have to charge 'em, Jubal. The marks won't pay attention if it's free.
Daughters can spend ten percent more than a man can make in any usual occupation. That’s a law of nature, to be known henceforth as ‘Harshaw’s Law.
The worst that can possibly have happened to him is death and that we are all in for---if not this morning, then in days, or weeks, or years at most.
Come Judgment Day, we may find that Mumbo Jumbo the God of the Congo was the Big Boss all along.
For, though the room was silent, the silence of half a hundred cats is a peculiar thing, like fifty individual silences all piled one on top of another.
To my mother, I was everything. To my father, nothing at all. To my grandmother, I was a daily reminder of loves long lost.
