She merely beamed a fatty beam. She was almost ponderous, and pink, with a tendency to a double chin.
She merely beamed a fatty beam. She was almost ponderous, and pink, with a tendency to a double chin.
I believe in the compelling power of love. I do not understand it. I believe it to be the most fragrant blossom of all this thorny existence.
The whole earth was brimming sunshine that morning. She tripped along, the clear sky pouring liquid blue into her soul.
Let no one underestimate the need of pity. We live in a stony universe whose hard, brilliant forces rage fiercely.
Nothing is proved, all is permitted.
Assure a man that he has a soul and then frighten him with old wives' tales as to what is to become of him afterward, and you have hooked a fish, a mental slave.
Honors At his funeral, Charlie Chaplin read Dreiser's poem, The Road I Came. ... American writing before and after his time differed almost as much as biology before and after Darwin. He was a man of large originality, of profound feeling and of unshakable courage. All of us who write are better off because he lived, worked and hoped.
Words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we mean. Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudible feelings and purposes.
To the untraveled, territory other than their own familiar heath is invariably fascinating. Next to love it is the one thing that solaces and delights.
Our civilization is still in a middle stage, scarcely beast, in that it is no longer wholly guided by instinct; scarcely human, in that it is not yet wholly guided by reason.
Art is the stored honey of the human soul, gathered on wings of misery and travail.
In order to have wisdom we must have ignorance.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories