The Word is alive. We have always known it. But it needs to be uttered, aloud or in the mind of a reader. Without a consciousness to tickle them into life, those books were dead.
Strange how paranoia can link up with reality now and then.
Do you not see how strange and wonderful that is? That all history balances on an affair of the human heart?
It was strange how the future seemed tied inseparably to the past, so that both revolved through the present, like a great wheel...
Strange that grief should now almost choke me, because another human being's eye has failed to greet mine.
Many are the strange chances of the world,' said Mithrandir, 'and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.
Those were strange days, now that I look back at them. In the midst of life, everything revolved around death.
It was strange, really. A couple months ago, I had thought I couldn’t live without him. Apparently I could.
Strange where our passions carry us, floggingly pursue us, forcing upon us unwanted dreams, unwelcome destinies.
What I read told me that the Mankindman was a strange creature which stand on to legs. It seems to be a man from both sides; maybe all sides are man!
There is an enduring freshness in what remains strange and obscure which the cliches of greatness can only evoke nostalgia for.
Once you tell your first lie, the first time you lie for him, you are in it with him, and then you are lost.
But what was I but a scared child lost in a strange world? How could I replace all that been lost? Where was my place in the world?
There is a strange moment in time, after something horrible happens, when you know it's true, but you haven't told anyone yet.
As for Doing-good...I have tried it fairly, and, strange as it may seem, am satisfied that it does not agree with my constitution.
I wanted to laugh. Or maybe get mad. Or maybe shrug at how strange everyone was, especially me.
Strange, how the best moments of our lives we scarcely notice except in looking back.
On the frozen tundra, I milked a cow and pumped out ice cream. Strangely, it had chunks of strawberries in it.
How strange it is, sometimes, which conversations or events stays with us while so much else melts as fast as April snow.
Are cats strange animals or do they so resemble us that we find them curious as we do monkeys?
And, as always happens, and happens far too soon, the strange and wonderful becomes a memory and a memory becomes a dream. Tomorrow it's gone.
