... too much brooding, not enough doing.
Nothing so completely verifies our perception of a thing as our killing of it.
He said that in a way being loved is like being told you never have to die.
The spaces between the perceiver and the thing perceived can [...] be closed with a shout of recognition.
They waited. The door did not open. The rain did not stop. The darkness made a tent and covered them completely.
I still maintain that an ordinary human being has the right to be horrified by a mangled body seen on an afternoon walk.