The cayote is a living, breathing allegory of Want. He is always hungry. He is always poor, out of luck and friendless. The meanest creatures despise him, and even the fleas would desert him for a velocipede.
(Mark Twain [Samuel Langhorne Clemens] (1835-1910), U.S. author. Roughing It, ch. 5, American Publishing Company (1871).)
Success and failure on the public level never mattered much to me, in fact I feel more at home with the latter, having breathed deep of its vivifying air all my writing life up to the last couple of years.
(Samuel Beckett (1906-1989), Irish dramatist, novelist. "Beckett's Letters on Endgame," p. 183, The Village Voice Reader, Doubleday (1962).
From a letter to Alan Schneider dated January 11, 1956.)
I can no more think of my own life without thinking of wine and wines and where they grew for me and why I drank them when I did and why I picked the grapes and where I opened the oldest procurable bottles, and all that, than I can remember living before I breathed.
(M.F.K. Fisher (1908-1992), U.S. culinary writer and autobiographer. The Book of California Wine, Preface (1984).)
Manners are of more importance than laws.... Manners are what vex or soothe, corrupt or purify, exalt or debase, barbarize or refine us, by a constant, steady, uniform, insensible operation, like that of the air we breathe in.
(Edmund Burke (1729-1797), Irish philosopher, statesman. Letters on a Regicide Peace, letter 1 (1796).)
Remember that whatever knowledge you do not solidly lay the foundation of before you are eighteen, you will never be master of while you breathe.
(Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl Chesterfield (1694-1773), British statesman, man of letters. letter, Dec. 11, 1747, Letters Written by the Late Right Honourable Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl, Earl of Chesterfield, to his Son, Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl, Esq, 5th ed., vol. I, p. 297, London (1774).
Philip was fifteen at the time.)
One must not forget that recovery is brought about not by the physician, but by the sick man himself. He heals himself, by his own power, exactly as he walks by means of his own power, or eats, or thinks, breathes or sleeps.
(Georg Groddeck (1866-1934), German psychoanalyst. The Book of the It, letter 32 (1923).)