His mind worked fast, flying in emergency supplies of common sense, as human minds do, to construct a huge anchor in sanity and prove that what happened hadn't really happened and, if it had happened, hadn't happened much.
Here I come to one of the memoir writer's difficulties -- one of the reasons why, though I read so many, so many are failures. They leave out the person to whom things happened. The reason is that it is so difficult to describe any human being. So they say: 'This is what happened'; but they do not say what the person was like to whom it happened. And the events mean very little unless we know first to whom they happened.
Not all that is presented to us as history has really happened; and what really happened did not actually happen the way it is presented to us; moreover, what really happened is only a small part of all that happened. Everything in history remains uncertain, the largest events as well as the smallest occurrence.
Everything that has ever happened to you has happened for you. Not one thing that has happened is wasted... You were building strength and strength x strength = POWER.
Never have doubted it, even when the plane crash happened. I wasn't mad at God. I just knew that there was a reason that I didn't know about why it happened.
I was portraying the family through my eyes. Everything that's happened in the strip has happened to me.
Everything good that has happened to me has happened as a direct result of something bad.
Everything great that ever happened in this world happened first in somebody’s imagination.
Everything that happened to me happened by mistake. I don't believe in fate. It's luck, timing and accident.
With everything that has happened to you, you can either feel sorry for yourself or treat what has happened as a gift. Everything is either an opportunity to grow or an obstacle to keep you from growing. You get to choose.
Short stories do not say this happened and this happened and this happened. They are a microcosm and a magnification rather than a linear progression.
Everything good that happened to me happened by accident.
Sure, I had dreams of being a star when I was 18. I could've pushed it, too, but it wouldn't have happened any sooner. I'm lucky. What's happened has happened in spite of me.
We kept everything: every major event that's happened to African-Americans since 1945, with 'Ebony' as a repository for all those photographs and as a voice for all that happened.
The Universe was a silly place at best...but the least likely explanation for it was the no-explanation of random chance, the conceit that abstract somethings 'just happened' to be atoms that 'just happened' to get together in ways which 'just happened' to look like consistent laws and some configurations 'just happened' to possess self-awareness and that two 'just happened' to be the Man from Mars and a bald-headed old coot with Jubal inside.
My boat strikes something deep. At first sounds of silence, waves. Nothing has happened; Or perhaps everything has happened. and I am sitting in my new life.