Each of us at some time in his life has had the illusion that he could sleep somewhere safely, that he could take possession of some certainty, some faith, and there rest his limbs. But all the certainties of the past have been snatched away from us, and faith has never after all been a place for sleeping in.
To have that sense of one's intrinsic worth which, for better or for worse, constitutes self-respect, is potentially to have everything: the ability to discriminate, to love and to remain indifferent. To lack it is to be locked within oneself, paradoxically incapable of either love or indifference.
The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection, that one is sometimes willing to sin for the sake of loyalty, that one does not push asceticism to the point where it makes friendly intercourse impossible, and that one is prepared in the end to be defeated and broken up by life, which is the inevitable price of fastening one's love upon other human beings.
If you haven't yet pieced together a workable self, to find yourself fully formed in someone else's imagination is irresistible the way Kryptonite is irresistible.. this kind of fascination amounted to a form of idolatry, or at least a profound self-distraction.
I felt myself falling behind that spring, as though a train were leaving the station and a whole season was passed trying to run it down.
Empathy isn’t just listening, it’s asking the questions whose answers need to be listened to. Empathy requires inquiry as much as imagination. Empathy requires knowing you know nothing.
He had either been told to wait or had nothing better to do. The street maps went on. The rain turned to snow.
He looked at her, as if trying to remember why he had loved her and what she had been like. His glasses were steam. All his talk was fog.
What people would like is that a coward or a hero be born that way