Marisa Crane

Loving him is like trying to hold onto an armful of balloons. Maybe I need someone to come along and pop them.

Are you using your pain as an excuse or as a source of strength?

This is not new territory. Stop lights like lullabies write my eulogy.

I have imprinted on you and all those miles between us only keep us apart because we let them.

I’m slipping. I’m made of departed dreams and a stubborn fog that feels nothing like a veil.

If only I had known then the speed with which she could die, maybe I wouldn’t have become the hemlock.

We hear and apprehend only what we already half know.

The greatest homage we can pay truth is to use it.

The fickleness of the women I love is only equalled by the infernal constancy of the women who love me.

The colleges, while they provide us with libraries, furnish no professors of books; and I think no chair is so much needed.

Want of foresight, unwillingness to act when action would be simple and effective, lack of clear thinking, confusion of counsel until the emergency comes, until self-preservation strikes its jarring gongthese are the features which constitute the endless repetition of history.

I don’t want to talk grammar. I want to talk like a lady.

Sincerity is the highest complement you can pay.

Any man or institution that tries to rob me of my dignity will lose.

All true artists, whether they know it or not, create from a place of no-mind, from inner stillness.

Men’s actions are too strong for them. Show me a man who has acted, and who has not been the victim and slave of his action.

Sense shines with a double luster when it is set in humility. An able yet humble man is a jewel worth a kingdom.

For the first time in my adult lifetime, I am really proud of my country. And not just because Barack has done well, but because I think people are hungry for change. And I have been desperate to see our country moving in that direction.

The education of the will is the object of our existence.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.

The good rain, like a bad preacher, does not know when to leave off.