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Pearl S. Buck

"The old deep sadness of life lay in the bottom of her heart and she knew it was there, but she would not allow herself to sink into it. Out of the dark and sullen bottom of a lake the lotus flowers bloomed upon its surface, and she would pluck the flowers."

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"The old deep sadness of life lay in the bottom of her heart and she knew it was there, but she would not allow herself to sink into it. Out of the dark and sullen bottom of a lake the lotus flowers bloomed upon its surface, and she would pluck the flowers."

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Amber Hurdle

"Enthusiasm is a supernatural serenity."

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Amber Hurdle

"This is how we bring about our own damnation, you know-by ignoring the voice that begs us to stop. To stop while there's still time."

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Amber Hurdle

"I have wished a bird would fly away,And not sing by my house all day;Have clapped my hands at him from the doorWhen it seemed as if I could bear no more.The fault must partly have been in me.The bird was not to blame for his keys.And of course there must be something wrongIn waiting to silence any song."

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Amber Hurdle

"I wanted to say goodbye to someone, and have someone say goodbye to me. The goodbyes we speak and the goodbyes we hear are the goodbyes that tell us we re still alive."

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Amber Hurdle

"He could not say goodbye to these three rooms as he could to a house he had loved: hotel rooms accepted departures emotionlessly."

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Amber Hurdle

"I changed it. I had to. Do you know why?" She studied him, her eyes grave. "Because that was then and this is now. Because the past is gone, even though it defines the present."

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Amber Hurdle

"She could smell damprot, high, sweet, and cloying. She could smell madness like dead vegetables in a dark cellar."

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Amber Hurdle

"That- we seemed to have decided without saying a word- might go a long way toward spoiling something that was special, and beautiful, by virtue of its strangeness and delicacy."

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Amber Hurdle

"How does it happen that a writer who's not even very good - and I can say that, I've read four or five of his books - gets to be in charge of the world's destiny? Or of the entire universe's?"If he's not very good, why didn't you stop at one?"Mrs. Tassenbaum smiled. "TouchA©. He is readable, I'll give him that - tells a good story..."

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Amber Hurdle

"He is talking to people in Toronto, trying to find out if I am guilty; but he won't find it out that way. He doesn't understand yet that guilt comes to you not from the things you've done, but from the things that other have done for you."

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Pearl S. Buck
"We must have hope or starve to death."
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Pearl S. Buck
"Of course imagination is the beginning of creation. Without imagination there can be no creation."
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Pearl S. Buck
"Our society must make it right and possible for old people not to fear the young or be deserted by them, for the test of a civilization is the way that it cares for its helpless members."
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Pearl S. Buck
"I am comforted by life's stability by earth's unchangeableness. What has seemed new and frightening assumes its place in the unfolding of knowledge."
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Pearl S. Buck
"If you want to understand today, you have to search yesterday."
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Pearl S. Buck
"The young do not know enough to be prudent and therefore they attempt the impossible - and achieve it generation after generation."
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Pearl S. Buck
"Fear alone makes man weak. If you are afraid, your hands tremble, your feet falter, and your brain cannot tell hands and feet what to do."
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Pearl S. Buck
"For he came to perceive that since people were his study, his teachers, the objects through which he could satisfy his persistent wonder about life itself, his own being among others, wherever he lived for the moment, there was his home."
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Pearl S. Buck
"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - so thatwithout the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating."
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Pearl S. Buck
"Fate is unalterable only in the sense that given a cause, a certain result must follow, but no cause is inevitable in itself, and man can shape his world if he does not resign himself to ignorance."
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