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"Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?--every, every minute?"
Does anyone ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?
In love's service only wounded soldiers can serve.
Where there is an unknowable there is a promise.
There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love.
The planting of trees is the least self-centered of all that we can do. It is a purer act of faith than the procreation of children.
The dead don't stay interested in us living people for very long. Gradually, gradually, they let go hold of the earth . . . and the ambitions they had . . . and the things they suffered . . . and the people they loved. They get weaned away from the earth - that's the way I put it - weaned away.
A man looks pretty small at a wedding, George. All those good women standing shoulder to shoulder, making sure that the knot's tied in a mighty public way.
Many who have spent a lifetime in it can tell us less of love than the child that lost a dog yesterday.
Even memory is not necesary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.
