I did not believe that a Cause which stood for a beautiful ideal, for anarchism, for release and freedom from convention and prejudice, should demand the denial of life and joy. I insisted that our Cause could not expect me to become a nun and that the movement would not be turned into a cloister. If it meant that, I did not want it.
And you? Did you find the doorknob?__adrian picked up a jug and downed several swallows, drinking so quickly some of the water dripped down his chin. He poured some in his palm and rinsed his face, running his fingers through his hair.__ didn__ even get close enough to see a door.___ell, look on the bright side___adrian smiled___t least you weren__ captured and condemned to death this time.___hat__ the bright side?___hat can I say? I__ a glass-half-full kinda guy.
Theft of Swords
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And you? Did you find the doorknob?__adrian picked up a jug and downed several swallows, drinking so quickly some of the water dripped down his chin. He poured some in his palm and rinsed his face, running his fingers through his hair.__ didn__ even get close enough to see a door.___ell, look on the bright side___adrian smiled___t least you weren__ captured and condemned to death this time.___hat__ the bright side?___hat can I say? I__ a glass-half-full kinda guy.
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The fatal error of much science fiction has been to subscribe to an optimism based on the idea that revolution, or a new gimmick, or a bunch of strong men, or an invasion of aliens, or the conquest of other planets, or the annihilation of half the world--in short, pretty nearly anything but the facing up to the integral and irredeemable nature of mankind--can bring about utopian situations. It is the old error of the externalization of evil.
Every day, you get the opportunity to change your life. Change what you do not want. Change what makes you unhappy.
If life throws you a few bad notes or vibrations, don't let them interrupt or alter your song.
I'm so alive.As I stand facing the beauty of the never-ending Pacific Ocean, a late afternoon breeze blows down from the hills behind. As always, it is a beautiful day. The sun is making its final descent. The magic is about to begin. The skies are ready to burn with brilliance, as it turns from a soft blue to a bright orange. Looking towards the West, I stare in awe at the hypnotic power of the waves. A giant curl begins to take form, then breaks with a thundering clap as it crashes on the shore.
Do not think that one has to be sad in order to be militant, even though the thing one is fighting is abominable.