The more articulate one is, the more dangerous words become.
May SartonPublic education was not founded to give society what it wants. Quite the opposite.
May SartonLoneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is richness of self.
May SartonStichwörter: contentment solitude loneliness
We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.
May SartonStichwörter: life philosophy authenticity self
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I feel like an inadequate machine, a machine that breaks down at crucial moments, grinds to a dreadful hault, 'won't go,' or, even worse, explodes in some innocent person's face.
May SartonRoutine is not a prison, but the way to freedom from time.
May SartonWhere music thundered let the mind be still,
Where the will triumphed let there be no will,
What light revealed, now let the dark fulfill.
If art is not to be life-enhancing, what is it to be? Half the world is feminine--why is there resentment at a female-oriented art? Nobody asks The Tale of Genji to be masculine! Women certainly learn a lot from books oriented toward a masculine world. Why is not the reverse also true? Or are men really so afraid of women's creativity (because they are not themselves at the center of creation, cannot bear children) that a woman writer of genius evokes murderous rage, must be brushed aside with a sneer as 'irrelevant'?
May SartonStichwörter: gender women writers creativity femininity masculine-feminine
Does anything in nature despair except man? An animal with a foot caught in a trap does not seem to despair. It is too busy trying to survive. It is all closed in, to a kind of still, intense waiting. Is this a key? Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.
May SartonStichwörter: strength pain nature despair survival
One has only to set a loved human being against the fact that we are all in peril all the time to get back a sense of proportion. What does anything matter compared to the reality of love and its span, so brief at best, maintained against such odds?
May SartonStichwörter: friendship pain love relationships peril
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