writing

Recently a large group of 'problem' children were given the assignment of writing essays on the difficulties they had with their parents. The papers they turned in were misspelled but lively, listing a number of rather predicable faults - gushing, nagging, refusing affection, and so on. But oddly enough the quality most children felt their parents lacked was truthfulness. None of us, of course, likes to think of himself as a liar. In important things we make it a point to be scrupulously honest. But if we examine our daily lives closely we may find dozens of examples of small compromises, trivial evasions. These seemingly unimportant deceits should be guarded against, since they can all too easily become a part of the fabric of our existence, influencing our relationships with others. An unflagging desire for truth in every aspect of our behavior does much to provide that sense of security for which all people yearn.

A young man, just beginning the study of musical composition, once went to Mozart and asked him the formula for developing the theme of a symphony. Mozart suggested that a symphony was rather an ambitious project for a beginner: perhaps the young man might better try his hand at something simpler first. "But you were writing symphonies when you were my age." the student protested. "Yes, but I didn't have to ask how."

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold:- Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" -The vision raised its head, And with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay not so." Replied the angel, Abou spoke more low, But clearly still, and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." The angel wrote and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessed. And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!

I sometimes think that writing is like driving sheep down a road. If there is any gate to the left or right, the readers will most certainly go into it.

It's not a bad idea to get in the habit of writing down one's thoughts. It saves one having to bother anyone else with them.

Originality is not seen in single words or even in sentences. Originality is the sum total of a man's thinking or his writing.

I have stolen more quotes and thoughts and purely elegant little starbursts of writing from the Book of Revelation than anything else in the English language - and it is not because I am a biblical scholar, or because of any religious faith, but because I love the wild power of the language and the purity of the madness that governs it and makes it music.

To the man with an ear for verbal delicacies- the man who searches painfully for the perfect word, and puts the way of saying a thing above the thing said - there is in writing the constant joy of sudden discovery, of happy accident.

Writing is good, thinking is better. Cleverness is good, patience is better.

Writing may be either the record of a deed or a deed. It is nobler when it is a deed.