Happy Christmas" was their version of "Merry Christmas," and a better version, it seemed to him, for making merry was different from making happiness.
Michael D. O'BrienYet he saw that in all places there was originality, resulting from the human efforts at decoration and ingenious methods of survival.
Michael D. O'Brien[T]he reason why Shakespeare and Pushkin were great writers was because from the time when they were boys they stood like policemen over their thoughts and didn't allow one small insincerity to creep in.
Michael D. O'BrienTags: writing shakespeare pushkin
No true love is possible, Lewis demonstrates, until we abandon our claims, our rights, our grievances. Until then we will be trapped in the obscurity of our heart's mixed motives, our will to possess, to control, to be our own gods.
Michael D. O'BrienTags: wisdom life love control rights 41pct cslewis
You can't just sit there hating the wound, Tan, or indulging in bitterness. Whatever you become in life, always ask yourself, am I making more life or am I making more death?
Michael D. O'BrienLove is the soul of the world, though its body bleeds, and we must learn to bleed with it. Love is also the seed and milk and the fruit of the world, though we can partake of it in greed or reverence. We are born, we eat, and learn, and die. We leave a tracery of messages in the lives of others, a little shifting of the soil, a stone moved from here to there, a word uttered, a song, a poem left behind. I was here, each of these declare. I was here.
Michael D. O'BrienWe came to know that love is the soul of the world, though its body bleeds, and we must learn to bleed with it.
Michael D. O'BrienAutomobiles are unreliable and dangerous slaves. They frequently revolt and kill their masters. I hate them.
Michael D. O'BrienTags: cars automobiles
The mountains are intimations of transcendence, which he is now free to pursue, and the walking writes messages in every cell of his body, telling him that he is not locked inside a cement box, nor in a water drum, but is moving forward.
Michael D. O'BrienTags: nature transcendence mountains
The poet who sees himself as a hero or a prophet, or a priest of the socio-political forces to which he is loyal, which he believes are the historical necessities of his times, too easily becomes a puppet. He has no external measure with which to assess reality. Whether he submits to the forces or rejects them, he becomes a parody of himself, and then without knowing it submits his gifts to the demons of his era. He loses his place in the continuity of time. He becomes dependent on social affirmation and the drug of exalted feelings common to all revolutionaries. He destroys, even as he thinks he creates.
Michael D. O'BrienTags: revolution pride
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