A house that does not have one worn, comfy chair in it is soulless.

May Sarton

May Sarton

Profession: Poet
Nationality: Belgian

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How does one grow up? I asked a friend the other day. There was a slight pause; then she answered, By thinking.

So let the world go, but hold fast to joy.

That is what is strange—that friends, even passionate love, are not my real life unless there is time alone in which to explore and to discover what is happening or has happened. Without the interruptions, nourishing and maddening, this life would become arid. Yet I taste it fully only when I am alone...

For any writer who wants to keep a journal, be alive to everything, not just to what you're feeling, but also to your pets, to flowers, to what you're reading.

It always comes back to the same necessity: go deep enough and there is a bedrock of truth, however hard.

The creative person, the person who moves from an irrational source of power, has to face the fact that this power antagonizes. Under all the superficial praise of the "creative" is the desire to kill. It is the old war between the mystic and the nonmystic, a war to the death.

We are able to laugh when we achieve detachment if only for a moment.

She became for me an island of light, fun, wisdom where I could run with my discoveries and torments and hopes at any time of day and find welcome.

When I talk about solitude I am really talking also about making space for that intense, hungry face at the window, starved cat, starved person.

Public education was not founded to give society what it wants. Quite the opposite.

The Fur Person learned then and there that it is better to be a philosopher than to be a king and that, all things considered, wisdom was to be preferred to power.

Every relation challenges; every relation asks me to be something, do something, respond. Close off response and what is left? Bearing...enduring...waiting.

Whatever peace I know rests in the natural world, in feeling myself a part of it, even in a small way.

If we are to understand the human condition, and if we are to accept ourselves in all the complexity, self-doubt, extravagance of feeling, guilt, joy, the slow freeing of the self to its full capacity for action and creation, both as human being and as artist, we have to know all we can about each other, and we have to be willing to go naked.