Writing is a way of talking without being interrupted.
Jules RenardRead
If I had my life to live over again, I would ask that not a thing be changed, but that my eyes be opened wider.
Interpretation
The quote expresses a desire for greater awareness and appreciation of life rather than longing for a different life.
Jules Renard reflects on the notion that if he had the chance to live his life again, he wouldn't wish for any changes to the events that transpired. Instead, he wishes for a broader perspective, implying that a deeper understanding and awareness of life's experiences can enhance one's appreciation for the journey they have taken.
In practice
In a motivational speech about embracing life's challenges.
Writing is a way of talking without being interrupted.
If one were to build the house of happiness, the largest space would be the waiting room.
When I think of all the books still left for me to read, I am certain of further happiness.
It doesn't pay to say too much when you are mad enough to choke. For the word that stings the deepest is the word that is never spoke, Let the other fellow wrangle till the storm has blown away, then he'll do a heap of thinking about the things you didn't say.
Literature is an occupation in which you have to keep proving your talent to people who have none
I have no religion,β says Borneau, βbut I respect the religion of others. Religion is sacred.β Why this privilege, this immunity?... A believer creates God in his own image; if he is ugly, his God will be morally ugly. Why should moral ugliness be respectable?
I am just sorry my own mother had to live under that regime for most of her life. I was lucky. I got out and, 14 years later, Czechoslovakia became a free country. So I feel anger, even fury, at this bloody system that ruined so many people's lives for no reason whatsoever.
I remember my childhood as a horrible time. My mother says that nothing so horrible ever happened to me as the things that I remember.
I remember the last season I played. I went home after a ballgame one day, lay down on my bed, and tears came to my eyes. How can you explain that? It's like crying for your mother after she's gone. You cry because you love her. I cried, I guess, because I loved baseball, and I knew I had to leave it.
My mind was bursting with depression and anguish. I muttered imprecations and murmuring as I passed along. I was full of loathing and abhorrence of life, and all that life carries in its train.
My view is that, you know, life unfolds at its own rhythm. You know, I have never lived a life that I thought I could plan out. And I'm just trying to do the best I can every day. I find I have a lot to get done between the time I get up and the time I go to bed.
I don't know that I should care for a man who made life easy; I should want some one who made it interesting.
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