Sit down and put down everything that comes into your head and then you're a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own stuff's worth, without pity, and destroy most of it.
Sidonie Gabrielle ColetteRead
It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses.
Interpretation
Grief can be hidden, but small reminders of beauty can trigger deep emotions.
This quote reflects on the complexity of grief, suggesting that while individuals may build resilience and conceal their sorrow, moments of beauty or kindness can unexpectedly unravel their composure, revealing the depth of their emotional pain. It highlights how fragile our emotional state can be and how simple acts or observations can reconnect us with our feelings.
In practice
In a speech about healing after loss, one might say, 'As Colette wisely pointed out, small reminders can bring grief to the surface.'
Sit down and put down everything that comes into your head and then you're a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own stuff's worth, without pity, and destroy most of it.
I went to collect the few personal belongings which...I held to be invaluable: my cat, my resolve to travel, and my solitude.
The only virtue on which I pride myself is my self-doubt; when a writer loses her self-doubt, the time has come to lay aside her pen.
You must not pity me because my sixtieth year finds me still astonished. To be astonished is one of the surest ways of not growing old too quickly.
Truffles must come to the table in their own stock and as you break open this jewel sprung from a poverty-stricken soil, imagine - if you have never visited it - the desolate kingdom where it rules.
I did not look for her, because I was afraid of dispelling the mystery we attach to people whom we know only casually.
We tried not to age, but time had its rage.
You don't know what kind of day you will have, until evening.
What can we do but keep on breathing in and out, modest and willing, and in our places?
The rumble of the life outside was like the sound of the sea which was rising gradually around her.
Some things don't last forever, but some things do. Like a good song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times, pressing down on the corners and peering in close, hoping you still recognize the person you see there.
Sometimes life is so hard you can only do the next thing.Whatever that is just do the next thing.God will meet you there.
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