“Thou wouldst not think how ill all’s here about my heart Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth I have of late—but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth So” — 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… — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
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… — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
“It is the size of the characters’ desires that helps to make a sad story a tragedy.” — Jean Hegland Copy Share Image
