What we read in 2019.
One could not cling to happiness—happiness, simply, submitted to no clinging.
I realized the fabulous extent of my luck: I could, I could, if I kept the faith, transform my sorrow into life and joy. I might live in pain and sorrow forever, but, if I kept the faith, I would never be useless. If I kept the faith, I could do for others what I felt had not been done for me, and if I could do that, if I could give, I could live.
Well, I guess it’s time to take a deep breath and hold your nose and go under. Thank God, I learned that long ago.
When things go wrong, the good Lord knows they go wrong; one can find oneself in trouble so deep and so bizarre that one knows one can never get out of. One learns, at such moments, not merely how little we know, but how little whatever we know is able to help us. But sometimes things go right. And these moments, humiliatingly enough, don’t seem to have anything to do with one’s character at all.
It’s painful, sometimes, to look back on a life and wonder if anything you did could have made any difference. So much is lost; and what’s lost is lost forever. Was it destined to be lost, or could we have saved it?
It is hard to love the beaten. It means accepting their condition; whereas, precisely, one is asking oneself, What shall I do to be saved?
Rage and pity are not love, and the determination to outwit one’s situation means that one has no models, only object lessons.