People who live in the post-totalitarian system know only too well that the question of whether one or several political parties a...re in power, and how these parties define and label themselves, is of far less importance than the question of whether or not it is possible to live like a human being.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Just across the Green from the post office is the county jail, seldom occupied except by some backwoodsman who has been intemperat...e; the courthouse is under the same roof. The dog warden usually basks in the sunlight near the harness store or the post office, his golden badge polished bright.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Navajo men and boys have an odd way of showing their friendship. When two young men meet at the trading post, a "Sing", or a dance... they greet each other, inquire about the health of their respective families, then stand silently some ten or fifteen minutes while one feels the other's arms, shoulders, and chest.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Everything that was ever to happen to me in the future had its germ or impulse in the conditions of my life on Dover Street. My fr...iendships, my advantages and disadvantages, my gifts, my habits, my ambitions--these were the materials out of which I built my after life, in the open workshop of America. My days in the slums were pregnant with possibilities; it only needed the ripeness of events to make them fruit forth in realities. Steadily as I worked to win America, America advanced to lie at my feet. I was an heir, on Dover Street, awaiting maturity. I was a princess waiting to be led to the throne.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Unquiet souls! MIn the dark fermentation of earth,... In the never idle workshop of nature, In the eternal movement, Ye shall find yourselves again.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
It's impossible to represent a saint [in Art]. It becomes boring. Perhaps because he is, like the Saturday Evening Post people, in... the position of having almost infinitely free will.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The post-office had a great charm at one period of our lives. When you have lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are n...ever worth going through the rain for.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
My business is stanching blood and feeding fainting men; my post the open field between the bullet and the hospital. I sometimes d...iscuss the application of a compress or a wisp of hay under a broken limb, but not the bearing and merits of a political movement. I make gruel--not speeches; I write letters home for wounded soldiers, not political addresses.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Post-modernism has cut off the present from all futures. The daily media add to this by cutting off the past. Which means that cri...tical opinion is often orphaned in the present.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face,... When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go:LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »