A Quote by Alan Bennett

The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you had thought special and particular to you. And now, here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out, and taken yours
I LOVE YOU SO MANY REASONS ' --- Before i met you I spent a lot of time meeting all kinds of people i had a lot of fun and learned a lot Though each person I met had great characteristics something was missing No one person had all the qualities that I had hoped a person could have- someone whose every action and thought I could respect someone who was very intelligent yet could also be fun-loving someone who was sensitive, yet virile exciting and sensuous someone who knew what they wanted out of life. a beautiful person inside and out I could not find a person like this until i met you
I am not an insecure person. For me, insecurity comes when something I do does not come across the way I thought it would. It would come if I had nothing more to say as an actor. I have a long way to go!
There might be lots of boring thoughts coming from someone else, but the way they come across, they would be mind blowing because they would come in such a way so foreign to me. I think I would mostly be surprised, but alarmed also. There will be something within each of us, despite our differences, in thought processes to connect us.
I love telling stories, I love for someone to see something, and go, "Oh, wow, I've never thought of it that way." Because I've had those moments in my life, where I go, "Oh, my God, I've never looked or approached this topic and had that insight or had that idea come to mind," to where it changes your life, it changes the way you see certain things. I love that. I think that's such a cool thing that we get to do by sharing stories, whether they're fiction or nonfiction.
Last night I thought about all the kerosene I've used in the past ten years. And I thought about books. And for the first time I realized that a man was behind each one of the books. A man had to think them up. A man had to take a long time to put them down on paper. And I'd never even thought that thought before...It took some man a lifetime maybe to put some of his thoughts down, looking around at the world and life, and then I come along in two minutes and boom! it's all over.
Maybe I would have considered the problem if I'd met someone with whom I'd have liked to live. But I never met this someone and... No, even if I had met him, I'm sure I wouldn't have got married again. Why should I get married now that my life is so full? No, no, it's out of the question.
Every so often I take out a volume and read a page or two. After all, reading is looking after in a manner of speaking. Though they're not old enough to be valuable for their age alone, nor important enough to be sought after by collectors, my charges are dear to me, even if, as often as not, they are as dull on the inside as on the outside. No matter how banal the contents, there is always something that touches me. For someone now dead once thought these words significant enough to write them down.
A part of my appreciation for the good which moments bring has come from awareness and recognition. But it has also come from a correspnding sadness which arises from their passing. When something that can never quite be reenacted comes to an end (and all moments are that way), I feel a pensiveness within. This pensiveness gives my life a quality that might be best described as bittersweet. And those moments take on double meaning and richness - because they are here now - and because they will not always be.
I think I am beginning to understand why grief feels like suspense. It comes from the frustration of so many impulses that had become habitual. Thought after thought feeling after feeling action after action had H. for their object. Now their target is gone. I keep on through habit fitting an harrow to the string then I remember and have to lay the bow down. So many roads lead through to H. I set out on one of them. But now there's an impassable frontier-post across it. So many roads once now so many culs de sac.
I was angry with him before. I’m not really sure why. Maybe I was just angry that the world had become such a complicated place, that I have never known even a fraction of the truth about it. Or that I allowed myself to grieve for someone who was never really gone, the same way I grieved for my mother all the years I thought she was dead. Tricking someone into grief is one of the cruelest tricks a person can play, and it’s been played on me twice.
"Externality" is a different phenomenon from akrasia and doesn't always come with it. The set of desires and actions from which one feels alienated isn't always the same as the set of desires and actions of which one disapproves. It has been pointed out that you can disapprove of something inside yourself but still experience it as yours ("damn it, here I go again!"). In addition, you can approve of something inside yourself but feel like it's not yours ("when the emergency sirens went off, it was as if someone calmer and more reasonable took over and knew just what to do").
Your real, new self (which is Christ's and also yours, and yours just because it is His) will not come as long as you are looking for it. It will come when you are looking for Him.
I had never been this mad at her before. It was one thing to be attacked by someone you hated, but this was something else. This was the kind of hurt that could only be inflicted by someone you loved, who you thought loved you. It was sort of like being stabbed from the inside out.
I sometimes wish desperately that I could write like someone else, be someone else. No one particularly. Just if I could put the pen down on paper and suddenly come out in a totally different way.
Just before I got down here I had a chance to see Agassi play another game and he smoked another player, which was nice to see. Someone who a lot of people thought couldn't come back and now he's winning.
When you meet me and hang out with me, I might come across as a very upbeat, driven person. I don't come across as someone who is wounded.
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