Quotes of: Journal Keyword

I'll pretty much try any cheese, but I have found that I prefer young goats and old cows. I don't like gray areas.

The Paris Journal: Book One

It hurts to love. It's like giving yourself to be flayed and knowing that at any moment the other person may just walk off with your skin.

Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963

The fear of becoming old is born of the recognition that one is not living now the life that one wishes. It is equivalent to a sense of abusing the present.

Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963

There was a young girl named Ratchet. She had skill and no one could match it. She wanted to be More stylish and carefree, But she couldn't give up her Ratchet.

This Journal Belongs to Ratchet

And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

The future is what matters — because one never reaches it, but always stays in the present — like the White Queen who had to run like the wind to remain in the same spot.

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin.

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. --From the poem "Lady Lazarus", written 23-29 October 1962

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

But women have lust, too. Why should they be relegated to the position of custodian of emotions, watcher of the infants, feeder of the soul, body and pride of man?

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on the top of the beer can.

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

It occurred to me that no words by the tongue of man can express the simplicities of a quiet land, so I returned to the river.

The Unpeopled Season: Journal from a North Country Wilderness

...returning to nature has been a dream present in the minds of every generation since mankind first left nature.

The Unpeopled Season: Journal from a North Country Wilderness

WikiLeaks, for me, has not only that element in it of journalism publishing, but also the way in which it does it, with its - the concept we have of scientific journalism, I find very important and really appeals to me, that all of the source documen...

Sarah Harrison

I am a waning bird encased in a glass sphere; I cannot see my prison, and my cries no one can hear.

An Owl on the Moon: A Journal from the Edge of Darkness

The print magazine and print journalism industry is obviously in a great deal of trouble, and one of the things that happened when this business started to give way to the Internet and to broadcast television is that a lot of organizations started cu...

Matt Taibbi

I got into journalism not to be a journalist but to try to change American foreign policy. I'm a corny person. I was a dreamer predating my journalistic life, so I got into journalism as a means to try to change the world.

Samantha Power

Commenting on print journalism at the Commenting on print journalism at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner: “Thanks to Obamacare, millions of Americans can visit a doctor’s office and see what a print magazine actually looks like.

Joel McHale

Obviously, in journalism, you're confined to what happens. And the tendency to embellish, to mythologize, it's in us. It makes things more interesting, a closer call. But journalism taught me how to write a sentence that would make someone want to re...

Amy Hempel

How strangely inaccurate it is to measure length of living by length of life! The space between your birth and death is often far from a true measure of your days of .

Circle of the Seasons: The Journal of a Naturalist's Year

Can I love someone...and still think/fly? Love is flying, sown, floating. Thought is solitary flight, beating wings.

As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980