All.is Well Quotes

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The result of this deeply male-dominated culture is that the male experience, the male perspective, has come to be seen as universal, while the female experience--that of half the global population, after all--is seen as, well, niche.
Caroline Criado Pérez (Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men)
Convince yourself everyday that you are worthy of a good life. Let go of stress, breathe. Stay positive, all is well.
Germany Kent
Any day above ground is a good day. Before you complain about anything, be thankful for your life and the things that are still going well.
Germany Kent
Ghastly," continued Marvin, "it all is. Absolutely ghastly. Just don't even talk about it. Look at this door," he said, stepping through it. The irony circuits cut in to his voice modulator as he mimicked the style of the sales brochure. " 'All the doors in his spaceship have a cheerful and sunny disposition. It is their pleasure to open for you, and their satisfaction to close again with the knowledge of a job well done.' " As the door closed behind them it became apparent that it did indeed have a satisfied sighlike quality to it. "Hummmmmmmyummmmmmmah!" it said.
Douglas Adams (The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, #1))
Everything is unfolding as it should. No matter what's going on in your life, or what appears to be going on in your life, believe me it's all for your ultimate good. (p. 44)
Robert Adams (Silence of the Heart: Dialogues with Robert Adams)
All is well. All is well. All is perfectly well. Never forget that. Do not think about it. Do not try to analyze it. Just accept it in your heart. (p. 160)
Robert Adams (Silence of the Heart: Dialogues with Robert Adams)
Sixsmith. I climb the steps of the Scot monument every morning and all becomes clear. Wish I could make you see this brightness. Don't worry, all is well. All is so perfectly, damnably well. I understand now that boundaries between noise and sound are conventions. All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended. One may transcend any convention if only one can first conceive of doing so. Moments like this, I can feel your heart beating as clearly as I feel my own, and I know that separation is an illusion. My life extends far beyond the limitations of me.
Cloud Atlas 2012 Movie
All I know is that all is well, and everything is unfolding as it should. All I know is, that happiness is your true nature. (p. 49)
Robert Adams (Silence of the Heart: Dialogues with Robert Adams)
Who you really are is Nonphysical Energy focused is a physical body, knowing full well that all is well and always has been and always will be. You are here to experience the supreme pleasure of concluding new desires, and then of bringing yourself into vibrational alignment with the new desire that you've concluded - for the purpose of taking thought beyond that which it has been before.
Abraham Hicks
Of course that is not the whole story, but that is the way with stories; we make them what we will. It’s a way of explaining the universe while leaving the universe unexplained, it’s a way of keeping it all alive, not boxing it into time. Everyone who tells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that everybody sees it differently. Some people say there are true things to be found, some people say all kinds of things can be proved. I don’t believe them. The only thing for certain is how complicated it all is, like string full of knots. It’s all there but hard to find the beginning and impossible to fathom the end. The best you can do is admire the cat’s cradle, and maybe knot it up a bit more. History should be a hammock for swinging and a game for playing, the way cats play. Claw it, chew it, rearrange it and at bedtime it’s still a ball of string full of knots. Nobody should mind. Some people make a lot of money out of it. Publishers do well, children, when bright, can come top. It’s an all-purpose rainy day pursuit, this reducing of stories called history.
Jeanette Winterson (Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit)
All's well that carries on well
Amit Abraham
Think of all that energy you’ve been expending in feeling how unfair it all is…well, it’s perfectly fair. Who should take responsibility for the state of YOU if not YOU?
Stephanee Killen (Buddha Breaking Up: A Guide to Healing from Heartache & Liberating Your Awesomeness)
There is never a disempowering moment. There is only a disempowering thought in an ever empowering moment.
Hiral Nagda
Stars weave dreams on midnight’s quilt. First rays of dawn reveal their built.
Amogh Swamy (On My Way To Infinity: A Seeker's Poetic Pilgrimage)
In my restless dreams, I see that town. Silent Hill. You promised me you'd take me there again someday. But because of me, you were never able to. Well, I'm alone there now… In our ”“special place.” Waiting for you… Waiting for you to come to see me. But you never do. And so I wait, wrapped in my cocoon of pain and loneliness. I know I've done a terrible thing to you. Something you'll never forgive me for. I wish I could change that, but I can't. I feel so pathetic and ugly lying here, waiting for you... Every day I stare up at the cracks in the ceiling, and all I can think about is how unfair it all is... The doctor came today. He told me I could go home for a short stay. It's not that I'm getting better. It's just that this may be my last chance... I think you know what I mean... Even so, I'm glad to be coming home. I've missed you terribly. But I'm afraid James. I'm    afraid you don't really want me to come home. Whenever you come see me, I can tell how hard it is on you... I don't know if you hate me or pity me... Or maybe I just disgust you.... I'm sorry about that. When I first learned that I was going to die, I just didn't want to accept it. I was so angry all the time, and I struck out at everyone I loved most. Especially you, James. That's why I understand if you do hate me. But I want you to know this, James. I'll always love you. Even though our life together had to end like this, I still wouldn't trade it for the world. We had some wonderful years together. Well, this letter has gone on too long, so I'll say goodbye. I told the nurse to give this to you after I'm gone. That means that when you read this, I'll already be dead. I can't tell you to remember me, but I can't bear for you to forget me. These last few years since I became ill...I'm so sorry for what I did to you, did to us... You've given me so much and I haven't been able to return a single thing. That's why I want you to live for yourself now. Do what's best for you, James. James... You made me happy. “I love you, Mary.”  As the car began to slowly sink to the bottom of the lake, James pulled his wife close and gently held her. Their wish had finally come true. They would be together. And now they had an eternity to enjoy their happiness.
Sadamu Yamashita (Silent Hill 2: The Novel)
We imagine we’ll hear history when it calls. When it doesn’t, we return to our daily lives, our moral mettle still intact. But maybe history doesn’t call, or maybe you have to be listening closely to hear it. To prioritize diversity over perceived merit—the colorblind assessment of ability that has never really been colorblind at all—is to recognize that strategic imperatives can’t be the sole benchmark by which we distribute society’s prizes. There’s an increasing sense—among the millennials who fill our lecture halls, but out in the rougher world of cubicles and delivery vans and hospital waiting rooms as well—that it’s not enough to be right, or profitable, or talented. You must also be just. It’s
Joichi Ito (Whiplash: How to Survive Our Faster Future)
So, you’re who they call the Reaper,” Tactus drawls. He swings my blade experimentally. “Well, you just look too pretty to be much damage at all.” “Is he flirting with me?” I ask the Tamara girl. “Tactus, go away! Thank you, but now go away,” says the thin, hawkish girl.
Pierce Brown (Red Rising (Red Rising Saga, #1))
In an oppressive society it may well be that *all* fantasies indulged in by the oppressor are destructive to the oppressed. To become involved in them in any way at all is, at the very least, to lose time defining yourself. To isolate the fantasy we must cleave to reality, to what *we* know, *we* feel, *we* think of life. Trusting our own experience and our own lives; embracing both the dark self and the light.
Alice Walker
I’m incredibly sorry, and I swear on my father’s crypt, I will never let you down again.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice in an attempt to defuse his mood. “Hank, you already apologized. We’re fine. All is well.Besides, you hated your father.” “Yeah, but I really love that crypt. You’ve seen it. It has the gargoyles.” He made a claw withhis hand I smiled at his weirdness. It was very Hank-like. “Like I said, all is forgiven
Penny Reid (Beard in Mind (Winston Brothers, #4))
You simply live your life in a wonderful way. Everything takes care of itself, and you notice that your consciousness is expanding. It began by thinking of yourself, and now it is expanding to take in the world, to take in the universe. And then you begin to see everything in this uni­verse as an image on the screen, and you are the screen. You never worry again. You never fear anything again. You understand the wholeness of everything, and there are no mistakes. All is well. Nothing is wrong. (p. 75)
Robert Adams (Silence of the Heart: Dialogues with Robert Adams)
Feel that I am It, Pure Awareness. I have always been It. There never was a time when I was not It. The appearance of the body cannot fool me any longer. The world and all its manifestations cannot fool me any longer. The universe with its planets and galaxies and solar systems cannot fool me any longer. I can see through these things to the Source. I can feel the Source because I am the Source. I have always been the Source. There never was a time when I was not. As far as thoughts are concerned, they do not exist. They can no longer bother me or make my life miserable. As far as others are concerned, there are no others. There is only the Source. I can no longer be deceived. There is no thing that has ever transpired in my life that can hurt me. I forgive everyone and everything, and especially myself. I am the power and the presence and the glory. If I am That, so is everybody else. So is everything else. All is well. (p. 5)
Robert Adams (Silence of the Heart: Dialogues with Robert Adams)
It remains to be seen to which side I'm gonna lean. Which road will I choose, what will I gain, what will I lose? Am I gonna come to my senses and see the light in letting go of what I want in order to do what's right? Oh but right by whom? By me or by you? It’s just a crossroads. Is the light red or is it green? I’m getting mixed signals, I really don’t know what they mean. If I wasn’t temporarily blind, if I could only take one look I know I’d find how simple it all is. How much do I really own this? Is enough not enough? Am I really in love? Or is it nothing but a test? Well if you wanna try me go ahead and be my guest. Cos I myself would like to know which way we're to go. I guess it’s undecided yet so I’ll take it slow, but as I regain my sight, I know I will do what’s right. Indeed it’s just a crossroads. Now that I’m willing to clearly see things for what they really are and not what I’d like them to be. There’s nothing left to think about. I know the way now, I’ve no more doubt. I let go and release. You do the same for me, please.
Markéta Irglová
WENDELL P. BLOYD They first charged me with disorderly conduct, There being no statute on blasphemy. Later they locked me up as insane Where I was beaten to death by a Catholic guard. My offense was this: I said God lied to Adam, and destined him To lead the life of a fool, Ignorant that there is evil in the world as well as good. And when Adam outwitted God by eating the apple And saw through the lie, God drove him out of Eden to keep him from taking The fruit of immortal life. For Christ's sake, you sensible people, Here's what God Himself says about it in the book of Genesis: "And the Lord God said, behold the man Is become as one of us" (a little envy, you see), "To know good and evil" (The all-is-good lie exposed): "And now lest he put forth his hand and take Also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever: Therefore the Lord God sent Him forth from the garden of Eden." (The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it sounds just like Him.)
Edgar Lee Masters
Give sometimes everything will be alright.
Jenil Kanani
It was like this: I asked myself one day this question—what if Napoleon, for instance, had happened to be in my place, and if he had not had Toulon nor Egypt nor the passage of Mont Blanc to begin his career with, but instead of all those picturesque and monumental things, there had simply been some ridiculous old hag, a pawnbroker, who had to be murdered too to get money from her trunk (for his career, you understand). Well, would he have brought himself to that if there had been no other means? Wouldn't he have felt a pang at its being so far from monumental and... and sinful, too? Well, I must tell you that I worried myself fearfully over that 'question' so that I was awfully ashamed when I guessed at last (all of a sudden, somehow) that it would not have given him the least pang, that it would not even have struck him that it was not monumental... that he would not have seen that there was anything in it to pause over, and that, if he had had no other way, he would have strangled her in a minute without thinking about it! Well, I too... left off thinking about it... murdered her, following his example. And that's exactly how it was! Do you think it funny? Yes, Sonia, the funniest thing of all is that perhaps that's just how it was.
Fyodor Dostoevsky (Crime and Punishment)
...we have disrupted the balance in nature. With our focus placed primarily on our material well-being, we have neglected our spiritual well-being. Caught up too tightly in our physical paradigm and overwhelmed by impulses of coming at us all at once in our current society, we have forsaken our obligation to cultivate our spiritual awareness and get in touch with our deeper selves. We are simply too preoccupied by our need to provide for our family or partner, to maintain a social life, to perform chores around the house, to stay healthy and fit, and to do whatever is necessary to pay the bills - basically the things expected of us - that we hardly ever stop to ponder what the purpose of it all is.
Joseph De La Cruz (Paths to Pachamama: A Traveler's Guide to Spirituality)
When we say, 'it is well'; it is actually the hovering bird with no sense of direction on how to feed her chicks. The fear tearing the heart of the lion if his meal will ever appear. It is the flower at the mercy of the sleeping sun. The lonely mountain without a climber. Sometimes, it is the strength envisage even when the night falls. The tears of a helpless lost soul... it is saying to my soul "It is well".
Victor Vote
The restoration of our travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk and tailors. -
shakespeare and fletcher
Ah well, like the last greatest Irish man I ever knew once said to me: all is fair in death and chaos - and if my time has come to pass, let me go with a blade in my hand, and without any class.
Caroline Peckham (The Death Club (Dead Men Walking, #1))
We look to the stars. Backs on the grass. Danny rolls on his side. Props his head up with his left hand. ‘Hey, you still wanna know why I was crying on the bridge?’ he asks. ‘Yeah.’ He sits up. He’s breaking fragments of a twig between his fingers. ‘It’s a bit messed up.’ ‘It is?’ I sit up now, too. ‘Well, now I really wanna know.’ He tosses a bit of a twig over his feet. ‘Sometimes I go to the middle of that bridge and I look over the edge and I think about jumping off,’ he says. ‘Right,’ I say, wondering where he’s going with this. ‘But I’m not doing that in a sad, death way,’ he says. ‘I’m doing that in an alive way.’ ‘An alive way?’ I nod, trying my best to keep up. ‘I don’t think I’d ever jump, but sometimes I really think hard about it, and it terrifies me,’ he says. ‘And then it makes me feel alive. It makes me feel grateful. Because in that instant I feel like I’ve saved myself from certain death. I don’t know what part of me wants to jump, I can’t explain where it comes from, but it’s like some weird part of me always wants to die. I think that’s why I’m scared of heights. Like, have you ever been on one of those balconies in one of those high-rise apartments on the Gold Coast?’ ‘No,’ I say. ‘I live in a van.’ ‘Right,’ he says. ‘Sorry. Entitled dick.’ ‘You’re entitled to be.’ ‘Those Gold Coast apartments have balconies as high as the clouds, but the railings on the balconies don’t even go up past your belly button. You could trip over and that’d be it. Splat. I think some people get scared on those balconies because they are scared of the part of themselves that wants to die. For most of us it’s among the few times in our lives when we come so close to so easily being able to end it all, and we’re terrified by that voice in our heads screaming, “Don’t jump, arsehole,” and it’s like, what sort of crazy fuck has to even say that to themselves? So, sometimes when I’m on that bridge I think all that stuff, and then those thoughts are like reminders of how fucking beautiful it all is. The thought of dying reminds me why I love it all so much. I look at the river and the buildings and the lights and the moon and the stars and the people going past and I say these same words: “You’re so fucking lucky.
Trent Dalton (Lola in the Mirror)
I’ve heard what Rapskal says. That we have to plunge ourselves into the city’s memories if we are to learn how to live here as Elderlings. But I also remember all the warnings I heard in Trehaug. What Leftrin told us before he left, that lingering too long near memory stone can drown you. That you can lose your own life in remembering someone else’s.” Thymara was silent for moment. Tats had put a precise finger on her own fear, the one she didn’t like to admit. “But we are Elderlings. It’s different for us.” “Is it? I know Rapskal says that, but is it? Did the Elderlings prize having their own lives, or did they grow up so saturated in other people’s experiences that they didn’t realize what was theirs and what they’d absorbed? I like being me, Thymara. I want to still be Tats, no matter how long I live and tend my dragon. And I want to share those years with Thymara. I don’t need to soak you in someone’s else’s life when I’m with you.” He paused, letting her feel the sting of that little barb. Then he added, “My turn for a question. Are you living your life, Thymara? Or avoiding it by living someone else’s?” He knew. She hadn’t confided in him about the memory columns and her visits there with Rapskal. But somehow he knew. A deep blush heated her face. As her silence became longer, the hurt in his eyes deepened. She tried to tell herself that she’d done nothing wrong, that his hurt was not her fault. He spoke while she struggled to find words. “It’s pretending, Thymara.” His voice was low but not gentle. “It’s not plunging into this life in Kelsingra. It’s letting go of now, and living the past, a past that will never return. It’s not even really living. You don’t make decisions there, and if the consequences become too dark, you can run away. You take on a style of thinking, and when you come back to this world, it sways you. But worst of all is, while you are swimming in memories, what are you not doing here? What experiences are you missing, what chances pass you by? A year from now, what will you say about these seasons, what will you remember?” She was moving from embarrassed to angry. Tats had no right to rebuke her. He might think she was doing something foolish, but she hadn’t hurt anyone with it. Well, only him, and only his feelings. And wasn’t that partially his own fault, for caring about such things? He knew she was getting angry. She saw how he tightened his shoulders and heard his voice deepen a notch. “When you’re with me, Thymara…if you ever decide to be with me… I won’t be thinking of anyone else except you. I won’t call you by someone else’s name, or do something to you because it’s what someone else liked a long, long time ago.
Robin Hobb (Blood of Dragons (Rain Wild Chronicles, #4))
In my restless dreams, I see that town. Silent Hill. You promised me you'd take me there again someday. But because of me, you were never able to. Well, I'm alone there now… In our ”“special place.” Waiting for you… Waiting for you to come to see me. But you never do. And so I wait, wrapped in my cocoon of pain and loneliness. I know I've done a terrible thing to you. Something you'll never forgive me for. I wish I could change that, but I can't. I feel so pathetic and ugly lying here, waiting for you... Every day I stare up at the cracks in the ceiling, and all I can think about is how unfair it all is... The doctor came today. He told me I could go home for a short stay. It's not that I'm getting better. It's just that this may be my last chance... I think you know what I mean... Even so, I'm glad to be coming home. I've missed you terribly. But I'm afraid James. I'm afraid you don't really want me to come home. Whenever you come see me, I can tell how hard it is on you... I don't know if you hate me or pity me... Or maybe I just disgust you.... I'm sorry about that. When I first learned that I was going to die, I just didn't want to accept it. I was so angry all the time, and I struck out at everyone I loved most. Especially you, James. That's why I understand if you do hate me. But I want you to know this, James. I'll always love you. Even though our life together had to end like this, I still wouldn't trade it for the world. We had some wonderful years together. Well, this letter has gone on too long, so I'll say goodbye. I told the nurse to give this to you after I'm gone. That means that when you read this, I'll already be dead. I can't tell you to remember me, but I can't bear for you to forget me. These last few years since I became ill...I'm so sorry for what I did to you, did to us... You've given me so much and I haven't been able to return a single thing. That's why I want you to live for yourself now. Do what's best for you, James. James... You made me happy. “I love you, Mary.” As the car began to slowly sink to the bottom of the lake, James pulled his wife close and gently held her. Their wish had finally come true. They would be together. And now they had an eternity to enjoy their happiness.
SILENT HILL (COLLECTOR'S EDITION)
I didn’t come here to be interrogated,” I snapped. “What of all your attentions toward Calantha?” His shoulders pulled back. “I suppose we’re both putting on the performances of our lives.” His accusatory tone made my anger spark into a fire. “Performance? Is that what you call it? You lied to me. Your life’s complicated. That’s what you told me. Complicated?” “What are you dredging up? Last night or Terravin?” “You act as if it happened ten years ago! You have such an interesting way with words. Your life isn’t complicated. You’re the blazing crown prince of Dalbreck! You call that a complication? But you went on and on about growing melons and tending horses and how your parents were dead. You shamelessly told me you were a farmer!” “You claimed you were a tavern maid!” “I was! I served tables and washed dishes! Have you ever grown a melon in your life? Yet you piled on lie after lie, and it never occurred to you to tell me the truth.” “What choice did I have? I heard you call me a princely papa’s boy behind my back! One you could never respect!” My mouth fell open. “You spied on me?” I whirled around, shaking my head in disbelief, crossing the room, then whipping back to face him. “You spied? Your duplicities never end, do they?” He took an intimidating step closer. “Maybe if a certain tavern maid had bothered to tell me the truth first, I wouldn’t have felt that I had to hide who I was!” I matched him step for angry step. “Maybe if a self-important prince had bothered to come see me before the wedding as I had asked, we wouldn’t be here now at all!” “Is that so? Well, maybe if someone had asked with an ounce of diplomacy instead of commanding like a spoiled royal bitch, I would have come!” I shook with rage. “Maybe someone was too scared out of her wits to properly choose her words for His Royal Pompous Ass!
Mary E. Pearson (The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles, #2))
Some days, Rachel thinks, there is rapture. Everything connects, everything is right and good and there is nothing troubling, not even in paradox. For instance, the tissues in her body renew themselves every two years, yet she remains Rachel.
Emma Richler (Be My Wolff)
Chain letters—yes, the type you still occasionally get via email, or see on social media—have their roots in snail mail, first popularized in the late 1800s. One of the most successful ones, “The Prosperity Club,” originated in Denver in the post-Depression 1930s, and asked people to send a dime to a list of others who were part of the club. Of course, you would add yourself to the list as well. The next set of people would return the favor, sending dimes back, and so on and so forth—with the promise that it would eventually generate $1,562.50. This is about $29,000 in 2019 dollars—not bad! The last line says it all: “Is this worth a dime to you?” It might surprise you that in a world before email, social media, and everything digital, the Prosperity Club chain letter spread incredibly well—so well, in fact, that it reached hundreds of thousands of people within months, within Denver and beyond. There are historical anecdotes of local mail offices being overwhelmed by the sheer volume of letters, and not surprisingly, eventually the US Post Office would make chain letters like Prosperity Club illegal, to stop their spread. It clearly tapped into a Depression zeitgeist of the time, promising “Faith! Hope! Charity!” This is a clever, viral idea (for its time), and I will also argue that this is an analog version of a network effect from the 1800s, just as telephones and railways were, too. How so? First, chain letters are organized as a network, and can be represented by the list of names that are copied and recopied by each participant. These names are likely to be friends, family, and people in the community, furthering the Prosperity Club’s credibility, thereby increasing the engagement level. It follows the classic definition of network effects: the more people who are participating in this chain letter, the better, since you are then more likely to receive dimes. And it even faces the Cold Start Problem: if enough people aren’t already on the list and playing along, then it will fail to grow.
Andrew Chen (The Cold Start Problem: How to Start and Scale Network Effects)
Joseph.” He turned to see Louisa silhouetted in a doorway. She was attired in a plain green velvet day dress, her dark hair in a simple bun at her nape. Her expression went from surprised to smiling—brilliantly, magnificently smiling. “My lady, good morning.” He could not help but smile back. He was calculating how much of a bow his hip and knee could tolerate, when she launched herself at him. “Please tell me you are unharmed. Please tell me all is resolved and you sustained no injury.” Footman be damned. Joseph brought his arms around his intended. “I am unharmed.” He was at risk for being suffocated and knocked on his backside, but that did not matter. It did not matter in the least. “And all is well?” She was asking something more, something he’d figure out just as soon as he let himself enjoy for a moment the warmth and feminine abundance of Louisa Windham in his embrace, her clove scent winding into his brain and her smile scattering his wits. “All is—” “You won’t have to hare off to the Continent? We won’t have to?” “Grattingly stoved a finger, I’m told, and the demands of honor are met. There will be no hasty departure for France.
Grace Burrowes (Lady Louisa's Christmas Knight (The Duke's Daughters, #3; Windham, #6))
Free-will is thus a general cosmological theory of PROMISE, just like the Absolute, God, Spirit or Design. Taken abstractly, no one of these terms has any inner content, none of them gives us any picture, and no one of them would retain the least pragmatic value in a world whose character was obviously perfect from the start. Elation at mere existence, pure cosmic emotion and delight, would, it seems to me, quench all interest in those speculations, if the world were nothing but a lubberland of happiness already. Our interest in religious metaphysics arises in the fact that our empirical future feels to us unsafe, and needs some higher guarantee. If the past and present were purely good, who could wish that the future might possibly not resemble them? Who could desire free-will? Who would not say, with Huxley, "let me be wound up every day like a watch, to go right fatally, and I ask no better freedom." 'Freedom' in a world already perfect could only mean freedom to BE WORSE, and who could be so insane as to wish that? To be necessarily what it is, to be impossibly aught else, would put the last touch of perfection upon optimism's universe. Surely the only POSSIBILITY that one can rationally claim is the possibility that things may be BETTER. That possibility, I need hardly say, is one that, as the actual world goes, we have ample grounds for desiderating. Free-will thus has no meaning unless it be a doctrine of RELIEF. As such, it takes its place with other religious doctrines. Between them, they build up the old wastes and repair the former desolations. Our spirit, shut within this courtyard of sense-experience, is always saying to the intellect upon the tower: 'Watchman, tell us of the night, if it aught of promise bear,' and the intellect gives it then these terms of promise. Other than this practical significance, the words God, free-will, design, etc., have none. Yet dark tho they be in themselves, or intellectualistically taken, when we bear them into life's thicket with us the darkness THERE grows light about us. If you stop, in dealing with such words, with their definition, thinking that to be an intellectual finality, where are you? Stupidly staring at a pretentious sham! wherein is such a definition really instructive? It means less, than nothing, in its pompous robe of adjectives. Pragmatism alone can read a positive meaning into it, and for that she turns her back upon the intellectualist point of view altogether. 'God's in his heaven; all's right with the world!'—THAT'S the heart of your theology, and for that you need no rationalist definitions. Why shouldn't we all of us, rationalists as well as pragmatists, confess this? Pragmatism, so far from keeping her eyes bent on the immediate practical foreground, as she is accused of doing, dwells just as much upon the world's remotest perspectives. See then how all these ultimate questions turn, as it were, up their hinges; and from looking backwards upon principles, upon an erkenntnisstheoretische Ich, a God, a Kausalitaetsprinzip, a Design, a Free-will, taken in themselves, as something august and exalted above facts,—see, I say, how pragmatism shifts the emphasis and looks forward into facts themselves. The really vital question for us all is, What is this world going to be? What is life eventually to make of itself? The centre of gravity of philosophy must therefore alter its place. The earth of things, long thrown into shadow by the glories of the upper ether, must resume its rights. To shift the emphasis in this way means that philosophic questions will fall to be treated by minds of a less abstractionist type than heretofore, minds more scientific and individualistic in their tone yet not irreligious either.
Will James
This theme—cash before all—is also a hoary one. George Gershwin relied on it in his song “Freud and Jung and Adler” for the 1933 musical Pardon My English. In a repeated refrain, the doctors sing that they practice psychoanalysis because it “pays twice as well” as specialties that deal with bodily ailments. Therapists are inherently comical Luftmenschen, impractical, except on this one front. They like their fees. Lucy’s perky insistence about billing gives the five-cents-please strips their final kick.
Andrew Blauner (The Peanuts Papers: Writers and Cartoonists on Charlie Brown, Snoopy & the Gang, and the Meaning of Life: A Library of America Special Publication)
And—was this unspeakable? If it was, it didn’t make it less true: If you wanted to know how Nathan felt about his father’s kidnapping, well, he loved it. Now, he wouldn’t have exactly known how to say it. This terrible thing, this horrific moment in his family history, he remembered it so well. He remembered the people in the house, all the ways it was signaled to him that something was wrong. It was the first time—it was the best time. Finally, finally they were listening! Something was wrong! They were as vigilant and as scared as he was. And for that time, when he was allowed to sleep with his mother and people wrung their hands in anguish over him—when people pored over him with concern, that’s when Nathan finally got to stop sounding the alarm about how the world was scary and how life was untenable. How scary it all is. What targets we are. The way a body can fail. The way systems can fail. That people can have hearts filled with violence and terrorism, and how those people could be lying in wait outside your home any day. The absolute chaos of the world. Was he like this before the kidnapping? Certainly he was at least on his way there. But it actually didn’t matter. Nathan now came as an emergency, equipped with a backstory that allowed him and others to make sense of him. Who would not consider that a gift? Yes, that was the disgusting truth: that he loved his father’s kidnapping. There it was. Alyssa pulled the blanket over him and Nathan fell asleep.
Taffy Brodesser-Akner (Long Island Compromise)