A Quote by Donald Hall
As I look at the barn in my ninth decade, I see the no-smoking sign, rusted and tilting on the unpainted gray clapboard. My grandfather, born in 1875, milked his cattle there a century ago.
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My grandfather was born in 1920. His grandfather was born in 1860, at the beginning of the Civil War, into an America where slavery had yet to be abolished. And so, as I have sometimes thought about it, I dodged slavery by just five generations.
I milked, of course, and did some work around the barn, and tried not to think about Brian, which was like trying not to breathe.
Decade after decade, artists came to paint the light of Provincetown, and comparisons were made to the lagoons of Venice and the marshes of Holland, but then the summer ended and most of the painters left, and the long dingy undergarment of the gray New England winter, gray as the spirit of my mood, came down to visit.
I was born and raised in Pawnee City, Nebraska. I lived right next to the sale barn and I raised pigs. My dad was a guidance counselor at Wymore High School. He was also a preacher and did farming as well. We leased out our crop land but had cattle and horses.
A friend of mine said something powerful at his grandfather's funeral. He said that the greatest lesson from his grandfather's life was that he died empty, because he accomplished everything he wanted, with no regrets. I think that, along with leaving a legacy, would be the greatest sign of success.
Smoking-related heart disease runs in my family. My grandfather and great-grandfather died in their early 40s.
The late 20th century sea level rise rate lacks any sign of acceleration. Satellite altimetry indicates virtually no changes in the last decade.
Once you've seen the signs about the barn, it becomes impossible to see the barn.
If I'd been born in my grandfather's time, I'd have made my grandfather's mistakes. Theres no doubt of it. I just don't want to make my grandfather's mistakes today.
Well, I quit smoking three weeks ago and I had a hard day today not smoking.
I'm hoping to have a ninth decade like Matisse's.
My grandfather on my paternal side, Richard Frazier, was born in the late 1850s and, therefore, was born into slavery but was a sharecropper in South Carolina for his entire life.
I don’t like to badmouth people. But I’m the head of a monarchy that began in the ninth century, and I’m apparently more modern than Chris Christie. Look, I know he has to appeal to the crazy right-wingers in his party, but the fact is, he’s not as forward-thinking as an eighty-seven-year-old lady who wears a crown on her head. It’s pathetic.
The captain has just turned on the fasten-seat-belt-sign. He didn't mean to, but the joint he was smoking fell in his lap, and when he jumped up, his head hit the switch.
What are man and woman if not members of two very different and warring tribes Yet decade after decade, century after century, they attempt in marriage to reconcile and forge a union. Why I don't know. Biological imperative Divine law Or just a desire to connect to that mysterious other In any case, it's always struck me as a hopeful thing.
Gray goes with gold. Gray goes with all colors. I've done gray-and-red paintings, and gray and orange go so well together. It takes a long time to make gray because gray has a little bit of color in it.
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