We are all jellyfish, too pitiful and too afraid of being disliked to be honest.

Gardening gives one back a sense of proportion about everything -except itself.

Without anxiety life would have very little savor.

For inside all the weakness of old age, the spirit, God knows, is as mercurial as it ever was.

Growing old is, of all things we experience, that which takes the most courage, and at a time when we have the least resources, especially with which to meet frustration.

It is, I assume, quite easy to wither into old age, and hard to grow into it.

It is, I assume, quite easy to wither into old age, and hard to grow into it.

One does not "find oneself" by pursuing one's self, but on the contrary by pursuing something else and learning through some discipline or routine (even the routine of making beds) who one is and wants to be.

The price of being oneself is so high and involves so much ruthlessness toward others (or what looks like ruthlessness in our duty-bound culture) that very few people can afford it.

It is possible, I suppose, that we are returning to a Dark Age. What is frightening is that violence is not only represented by nations, but everywhere walks among us freely.