“And humanism—that transcendent vision that spans centuries and religions in its celebration of reason, responsibility, art, and examined lives—has been tossed out like old bathwater, leaving humanity naked and shivering on the dirty ground. He” — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“Beyond us I could see the mountains rising blue and hazy, and I knew I had only to cross them and keep on walking to catch up with all my dreams.” — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“tragedy is suffering elevated into art, it’s art that helps humans endure—and sometimes even transcend—their suffering. It’s” — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“Humanism, he continued, leaning toward his colleagues with the zeal of his conviction even as he stumbled over his words, that holds as its… — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“He knows a sweep of gratitude, soft as another voice, and so wide and deep he believes he might drown in it.” — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“And humanism—that transcendent vision that spans centuries and religions in its celebration of reason, responsibility, art, and examined lives—has been tossed out like old… — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“They do not die ignorant of either their own follies or of life’s worth. Instead, they die in the fullest possible knowledge of who… — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“Beyond us I could see the mountains rising blue and hazy, and I knew I had only to cross them and keep on walking… — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“In some ways we were more remote than strangers because strangers at least have the possibility of yet unmade connections.” — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“Each … breeze,” he says, watching the ripple of the bright, unfurling leaves, “will be me, missing. You.” Smiling” — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“It’s a physical urge, stronger than thirst or sex. Halfway back on the left side of my head there is a spot that longs for the jolt of a bullet, that yearns for that fire, that final empty rip. I want to be let out of this cavern, to open myself up to the ease of not-living. I am tired… — Jean Hegland Copy Share
It's a physical urge, huger and stronger than thirst or sex. Halfway back on the left side of my head there is a spot that yearns, that longs, that pleads for the jolt of a bullet. I want that rage, that fire, that final empty rip. I want to be let out of this dark cavern, to open myself up… — Jean Hegland Copy Share
“It is the size of the characters’ desires that helps to make a sad story a tragedy.” — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
