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Quote by May Sarton

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I Knew a Phoenix: Sketches for an Autobiography

This book is a compilation of sketches that serve as an autobiography, capturing the essence of the author's life experiences, insights, and growth. The sketches delve into various aspects of the author's existence, providing a candid and introspective look at their personal history. more

Author

May Sarton
May Sarton

American poet, born on May 3, 1912, and died on July 16, 1995. Known for her profound psychological insights and delicate portrayals of natural landscapes, May Sarton's poetry has had a significant impact on contemporary poetry, earning her numerous literary awards. more

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“At the memory of how tired, how embarrassed he'd been, M. Folantin considered himself lucky to be able to dine where he pleased and to spend the rest of the evening in his room; he reckoned that solitude had its advantages, that to mull over old memories and recount idle gossip to oneself was still preferable to the company of people with whom one shared neither convictions, nor sympathy; his desire to be sociable, to rub shoulders with others, evaporated and, once again, he repeated this depressing truth: that when old friends disappear, one should resolve not to look for others, but to live apart, to habituate oneself to isolation.”

“There is a crowd of busybodies, self-appointed masters of ceremonies, whose life is devoted to destroying solitude wherever solitude still exists. They call it “taking the young people out of themselves,” or “waking them up,” or “overcoming their apathy.” If an Augustine, a Vaughan, a Traherne, or a Wordsworth should be born in the modern world, the leaders of a youth organization would soon cure him.”

“By being within ourselves in isolation, through contemplation and meditation we find that which is quintessential for our progress – peace. If you’ve trouble with isolation, it’s obvious that you have a trouble with yourself. Somewhere, deep within you’re not at peace and, worse, maybe even at war with yourself.”

“Rural solitude, which provides ample themes for the intellect and sweet occupations innumerable for the minor sentiments, often denies a ready object for those stronger passions that enter no less than the others into the human constitution. The suspended pathos finds its remedy in settling on the first intrusive shape that happens to be reasonably well organized for the purpose, disregarding social and other minor accessories. Where the solitude is shadowed by the secret melancholies of the solitary, this natural law is still surer in operation.”