I know that one of the great arts that the writer develops is the art of saying, ‘No. No, I’m finished. Bye.’ And leaving it alone. I will not write it into the ground. I will not write the life out of it. I won’t do that.
Have you ever thought how humiliating and distressing it was to be placed upon a sphere? For friendship it is a boon never to be able to be further apart than the antipodes. But suppose that you are leaving together to go on and on; it is impossible. To go beyond a certain point is to return to where you began.
To aid life, leaving it free, however, that is the basic task of the educator.
Imagination is not something apart and hermetic, not a way of leaving reality behind; it is a way of engaging reality.
My mother had taught shorthand and typing to support us since my father died, and secretly she hated it and hated him for dying and leaving no money because he didn’t trust life insurance salesmen.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, That stand upon the threshold of the new.
Leaving home in a sense involves a kind of second birth in which we give birth to ourselves.
He puts his right hand lightly on the cup, I put my left, leaving the right free to transcribe, and away we go. We get, oh, 500 to 600 words an hour. Better than gasoline.
My own view is that being a vegetarian or vegan is not an end in itself, but a means towards reducing both human and animal suffering and leaving a habitable planet to future generations.
When you do something, you should burn yourself up completely, like a good bonfire, leaving no trace of yourself.