In the wintertime, in the snow country, citrus fruit was so rare, and if you got one, it was better than ambrosia.
James Earl JonesRead
One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter.
Interpretation
Expressing emotions can be difficult, especially when words fail us.
James Earl Jones highlights the struggle of expressing one's true feelings and thoughts. It underscores the challenge many face in articulating deep-rooted emotions that reside within but remain unspoken, emphasizing the importance of communication in human experience.
In practice
During a heartfelt speech at a family gathering to emphasize the importance of expressing love and gratitude.
In the wintertime, in the snow country, citrus fruit was so rare, and if you got one, it was better than ambrosia.
More and more, when I single out the person out who inspired me most, I go back to my grandfather.
Love was just a word to me. Until you came along and gave it meaning.
The goal wasn't to be a millionaire or to be a Hollywood star. That was not the goal. The goal was something about - the goal was to find the goal, but I knew where it was.
Just so you know, there's a space that only you can fill. Just so you know, I loved you then, I guess I always will.
You sang in church, you know, and you didn't act at all. You tried not to act, you tried to tell the truth. The idea of being a troubadour on the road singing for your supper was very disturbing to him.
You have to pay your own electric bill. You have to be kind. You have to give it all you got. You have to find people who love you truly and love them back with the same truth. But that's all.
But youth has a future. The closer he came to graduation, the more his heart beat. He said to himself: βThis is still not life, this is only the preparation for life.
And O there are days in this life, worth life and worth death.
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, Relieve my languish and restore the light; With dark forgetting of my care return. And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill adventured youth: Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Some women wait for themselves around the next corner and call the empty spot peace but the opposite of living is only not living and the stars do not care.
By the time I wrote my memoir, 'Men We Reaped,' I had been running from writing it for a long time. When the events in the book were happening, I knew I'd probably write about them one day. I didn't want to. I'd studied fiction, and I was committed to establishing myself as a fiction writer first.
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