Rightness Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
doctrinal-rightness-rightness-ecclesiastical-position-are-important-but-only-as-starting-point-to-go-on-into-living-relationship-not-as-ends-in-francis-schaeffer
whatever-doubt-might-rise-he-knew-that-he-was-right-but-rightness-was-intellectual-rightness-doubt-emotional-clifford-d-simak
i-cannot-say-what-i-think-is-right-about-music-i-only-know-rightness-it
rightness-judgment-is-bitterness-to-heart-euripides
the-rightness-thing-isnt-determined-by-amount-courage-it-takes-mary-renault
if-you-focus-your-awareness-only-upon-your-own-rightness-then-you-invite-forces-opposition-to-overwhelm-you-frank-herbert
kindness-in-your-dealings-with-yourself-others-will-work-wonders-in-your-life-much-more-than-rightness-in-your-thinking-kim-r-shaffer
a-fanatics-willingness-to-kill-be-killed-in-service-cause-cannot-prove-rightness-that-cause-poul-anderson
i-believe-that-art-has-kind-rightness-as-in-music-when-we-hear-whether-not-note-is-false-gerhard-richter
happiness-does-not-reside-in-strength-or-money-it-lies-in-rightness-and-manysidedness
your-own-reason-is-the-only-oracle-given-you-by-heaven-and-you-are-answerable-for-not-the-rightness-but-the-uprightness-of-the-decision
happiness-does-not-reside-in-strength-money-it-lies-in-rightness-manysidedness-democritus
every-bad-feeling-is-potential-energy-toward-more-right-way-being-if-you-give-it-space-to-move-toward-its-rightness-eugene-gendlin
in-all-that-was-to-happen-there-would-be-that-feeling-inevitability-rightness-sense-that-universe-was-conspiring-in-it-it-would-be-easy-laini-taylor
charm-was-luxury-those-who-still-believed-in-essential-rightness-things-in-purity-picket-fences-dennis-lehane
what-other-people-may-think-rightness-wrongness-is-nothing-in-comparison-to-my-own-deep-knowledge-my-innate-conviction-that-it-was-wrong-elizabeth-gaskell
lord-help-me-not-to-wallow-in-the-bitterness-of-hearing-the-truth-but-to-joyfully-strive-to-walk-in-the-beauty-of-its-rightness
our-success-as-consultants-will-depend-upon-essential-rightness-advice-we-give-our-capacity-for-convincing-those-in-authority-that-it-is-good-andrew-thomas
we-must-recognize-fact-that-many-nazis-marxists-fascists-believe-passionately-in-their-fundamental-rightness-allow-nothing-to-hinder-them-from-dorothy-day
my-ultimate-goal-is-to-spend-as-many-my-moments-in-life-as-i-can-in-that-world-that-poet-rumi-talks-about-place-beyond-rightness-wrongness-marshall-b-rosenberg
once-you-permit-those-who-are-convinced-their-own-superior-rightness-to-censor-silence-suppress-those-who-hold-contrary-opinions-just-at-that-archibald-macleish
language-must-resound-with-all-harmonies-music-the-writer-must-always-at-all-times-find-tremulous-word-which-captures-thing-is-able-to-draw-sob-knut-hamsun
it-was-her-eyes-my-eyes-i-felt-surging-sensation-rightness-saying-right-thing-at-right-time-to-right-person-maggie-stiefvater
bushs-faith-in-the-rightness-of-his-strategy-in-the-broader-war-is-deepseated-it-is-a-product-of-faith
but-some-things-no-matter-how-unlikely-are-just-supposed-to-happen-you-know-what-i-mean-some-things-just-smack-future-feel-part-overarching-rightness-marisa-de-los-santos
but-harmony-is-limitation-thus-rightness-limitation-is-essential-for-growth-reality-unlimited-possibility-abstract-creativity-can-procure-nothing-alfred-north-whitehead
when-i-comprehended-that-poetry-had-no-provision-in-it-for-ultimate-practical-attainment-rightness-work-that-is-truth-but-led-on-ever-only-to-laura-riding
parker-she-believed-absolutely-that-each-person-each-heart-had-counterparthad-mate-a-rightness-shed-always-believed-it-understood-that-unshakable-belief-was-reason-she-was-good-a
i-only-knew-that-there-was-certain-rightness-in-life-feeling-you-got-when-you-did-something-way-you-knew-you-should-laurence-yep
rightness-expresses-actions-what-straightness-does-lines-there-can-no-more-be-two-kinds-right-action-than-there-can-be-two-kinds-straight-lines-herbert-spencer
you-see-what-i-am-driving-at-the-mentally-handicapped-do-not-have-consciousness-power-because-this-perhaps-their-capacity-for-love-is-more-immediate-lively-developed-than-that-ot
There is some firm place in me which knows that what happened to Wally, whatever it was, whatever it is that death is as it transliterates us, moving us out of this life into what we can't know, is kind. I shock myself, writing that. I know that many deaths are anything but gentle. I know people suffer terribly... I know many die abandoned, unseen, their stories unheard, their dignity violated, their human worth ignored. I suspect that the ease of Wally's death, the rightness of it, the loving recognition which surrounded him, all made it possible for me to see clearly, to witness what other circumstances might obscure. I know, as surely as I know anything, that he's all right now. And yet. And yet he's gone, an absence so forceful it is itself a daily hourly presence. My experience of being with Wally... brought me to another sort of perception, but I can't stay in that place, can't sustain that way of seeing. The experience of knowing, somehow, that he's all right, lifted in some kind process that turns at the heart of the world, gives way, as it must, to the plain aching fact that he's gone. And doubt. And the fact that we can't understand, that it's our condition to not know. Is that our work in the world, to learn to dwell in such not-knowing? We need our doubt so as to not settle for easy answers. Not-knowing pushes us to struggle after meaning for ourselves... Doubt's lesson seems to be that whatever we conclude must be provisional, open to revision, subject to correction by forces of change. Leave room, doubt says, for the unknowable, for what it will never quite be your share to see. Stanley Kunitz says somewhere that if poetry teaches us anything, it is that we can believe two completely contradictory things at once. And so I can believe that death is utter, unbearable rupture, just as I know that death is kind.

Mark Doty
there-is-some-firm-place-in-me-which-knows-that-what-happened-to-wally-whatever-it-was-whatever-it-is-that-death-is-as-it-transliterates-us-moving-us-out-this-life-into-what-we-c
It had been his opinion that it might serve his country if the Chinese and his men saw that he was not afraid to die. For the comprehension of our age and the part treason has played in it, it is necessary to realize there are many English people who would have felt acutely embarrassed if they had to read aloud the story of this young man's death, or to listen to it, or comment on it in public. They would have admitted that he had shown extreme capacity for courage and self-sacrifice, and that these are admirable qualities, likely to help humanity in the struggle for survival; but at the same time he would not please them. They would have felt more at ease with many of the traitors in this book. They would have conceded that on general principles it is better not to lie, not to cheat, not to betray; but they also would feel that Water's heroism has something dowdy about it while treason has a certain style a sort of elegance, or as the vulgar would say, 'sophistication'. William Joyce would not have fallen within the scope of their preference, but the cause for that would be unconnected with his defense of the Nazi cause. The people who harbor such emotions find no difficulty in accepting French writers who collaborated with the Germans during the war. It would be Joyce's readiness to seal his fate with his life which they would have found crude and unappetizing. But Alan Nunn May, and Fuchs, Burgess, and Maclean would seem in better taste. And concerning taste there is no argument. Those who cultivate this preference, would not have been prepared to defend these men's actions if they were set down in black and white. They would have admitted that it is not right for a man to accept employment from the state on certain conditions and break that understanding, when he could have easily obtained alternative employment in which he would not have to give any such undertaking; and that it is even worse for an alien to induce a country to accept him as a citizen when he is homeless and then conspire against its safety by handing over the most lethal secret it possesses to a potential enemy of aggressive character. But, all the same, they would have felt that subtlety was on the side of the traitors, and even morality. To them the classic hero, like poor young Terence Waters, was hamming it. People who practice the virtues are judged as if they had struck the sort of false attitude which betrays an incapacity for art; while the people who practice the vices are judged as if they had shown the subtle rightness of gesture which is the sign of the born artist.

Rebecca West
it-had-been-his-opinion-that-it-might-serve-his-country-if-chinese-his-men-saw-that-he-was-not-afraid-to-die-for-comprehension-our-age-part-treason-has-played-in-it-it-is-necessa
Without thinking, I step a little closer, reaching out slowly to slide a fingertip over the largest petal of the lily tattoo on her lower back. Instantly a vibration moves up my arm, and I swear the mark on my hand burns against my skin. I clench my fingers into a fist, but I don't step away. 'Did you feel that?' she asks. I shake my head. 'I don't know.' I feel so much, always so much. She takes my hand and brings it to her side again, resting it on the violets. I look at the purple flowers between my fingers and feel the heat of her skin, the way it slides beneath my palm, soft as silk. And that vibration moves through my arm again. Her breath quickens. I find myself moving closer as her blue eyes go wide with wonder. My heart stutters and my chest aches with some unknown need. 'Are you doing this?' I ask. Is she making me want this? 'No, ' she breathes. The smell of her turns to spice, sharp and warm, and I know I'm sensing her now, even through the block in the house. We stand like that for an eternity, still as statues on the outside, but inside I'm running, running toward a place I've never been. I should be terrified. But all I feel is strength. Rightness. And then Kara moves, her hands skimming up my chest, testing the boundaries. Her palms slide to my shoulders, her fingers tracing the line of the muscles in my arms, down to my waist. She grips my shirt, stretching it a little, waiting for me to tell her to stop. But I watch her lift it, let her pull it up, raising my arms, and I even take the last of it off myself, dropping it to the floor. We breathe, staring at each other. The vibrations move between us. My left arm buzzes with them. I think she's doing it. Whatever's happening, it's her. I reach up and brush my marked knuckles across her cheek, amazed at the feel of her, the way her eyes seem to see everything, the way she pulls me into her. I can't seem to remember why I shouldn't kiss her. And kiss her. And... I kiss her, taking her face in both hands, skimming my thumb over her jaw as she leans into the touch, reaching out to curl her fingers around the back of my neck. I have to remind myself to breathe. I need more of her. The emotions roll over me in a rush, a tangle of sensation and movement, heat and sugar and heady aromas. I grip her tighter. Her nails dig into my shoulders. My hands slide down her spine. The kiss deepens, goes on forever, until I can barely see sense. I explore her shape, the feel of her ribs, the textures and taste of her skin on my tongue as I kiss her neck, her shoulders, her chest. As I draw trembling gasps from her lips, she grips me so hard it hurts. Our bodies mesh. Our breath mingles in frenzied desperation. Nothing else exists except her. Her warmth. Her spice. Her.

Rachel A. Marks
without-thinking-i-step-little-closer-reaching-out-slowly-to-slide-fingertip-over-largest-petal-lily-tattoo-on-her-lower-back-instantly-vibration-moves-up-my-arm-i-swear-mark-on-
You sometimes hear people say, with a certain pride in their clerical resistance to the myth, that the nineteenth century really ended not in 1900 but in 1914. But there are different ways of measuring an epoch. 1914 has obvious qualifications; but if you wanted to defend the neater, more mythical date, you could do very well. In 1900 Nietzsche died; Freud published The Interpretation of Dreams; 1900 was the date of Husserl Logic, and of Russell's Critical Exposition of the Philosophy of Leibniz. With an exquisite sense of timing Planck published his quantum hypothesis in the very last days of the century, December 1900. Thus, within a few months, were published works which transformed or transvalued spirituality, the relation of language to knowing, and the very locus of human uncertainty, henceforth to be thought of not as an imperfection of the human apparatus but part of the nature of things, a condition of what we may know. 1900, like 1400 and 1600 and 1000, has the look of a year that ends a saeculum. The mood of fin de sie¨cle is confronted by a harsh historical finis saeculi. There is something satisfying about it, some confirmation of the rightness of the patterns we impose. But as Focillon observed, the anxiety reflected by the fin de sie¨cle is perpetual, and people don't wait for centuries to end before they express it. Any date can be justified on some calculation or other. And of course we have it now, the sense of an ending. It has not diminished, and is as endemic to what we call modernism as apocalyptic utopianism is to political revolution. When we live in the mood of end-dominated crisis, certain now-familiar patterns of assumption become evident. Yeats will help me to illustrate them. For Yeats, an age would end in 1927; the year passed without apocalypse, as end-years do; but this is hardly material. 'When I was writing A Vision, ' he said, 'I had constantly the word "terror" impressed upon me, and once the old Stoic prophecy of earthquake, fire and flood at the end of an age, but this I did not take literally.' Yeats is certainly an apocalyptic poet, but he does not take it literally, and this, I think, is characteristic of the attitude not only of modern poets but of the modern literary public to the apocalyptic elements. All the same, like us, he believed them in some fashion, and associated apocalypse with war. At the turning point of time he filled his poems with images of decadence, and praised war because he saw in it, ignorantly we may think, the means of renewal. 'The danger is that there will be no war... Love war because of its horror, that belief may be changed, civilization renewed.' He saw his time as a time of transition, the last moment before a new annunciation, a new gyre. There was horror to come: 'thunder of feet, tumult of images.' But out of a desolate reality would come renewal. In short, we can find in Yeats all the elements of the apocalyptic paradigm that concern us.

Frank Kermode
you-sometimes-hear-people-say-with-certain-pride-in-their-clerical-resistance-to-myth-that-nineteenth-century-really-ended-not-in-1900-but-in-1914-but-there-are-different-ways-me
?Earn cash when you save a quote by clicking
EARNED Load...
LEVEL : Load...