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As I walked briskly out the road the wind knifed at my face, but this sun caressed the back of my neck.

John Knowles

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John Knowles
Age: 75 †
Born: 1926
Born: September 16
Died: 2001
Died: November 29
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Fairmont
West Virginia
Wind
Face
Briskly
Faces
Caressed
Back
Neck
Necks
Walked
Road
Sun

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Looking back now across fifteen years I could see with great clarity the fear I had lived in, which must mean that in the interval I had succeeded in a very important undertaking: I must have made my escape from it.
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It was demeaning to scrape affection from virtually everyone you encountered. That was immature.
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Everything has to evolve or else it perishes.
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Your war memories will be with you forever, you'll be asked about them thousands of times after the war is over. People will get their respect for you from that-partly from that, don't get me wrong-but if you can say that you were up front where there was some real shooting going on, then that will mean a whole lot to you in years to come.
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The best teaching I ever experienced was at Exeter. Yale was a distinct letdown afterward.
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I felt that I was not, never had been and never would be a living part of this overpoweringly solid and deeply meaningful world around me.
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The next major advance in the health of the American people will be determined by what the individual is willing to do for himself.
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I did no know everything there was to know about myself, and knew that I did not know it.
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the scornful force of his tone turned the word into a curse
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I never killed anybody and I never developed an intense level of hatred for the enemy. Because my war ended before I ever put on a uniform I was on active duty all my time at school I killed my enemy there.
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What I mean is, I love winter, and when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love.
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So the more things remained the same, the more they changed after all. Nothing endures. Not love, not a tree, not even a death by violence.
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Never say you are five feet nine when you are five feet eight and a half was the first one I encountered. Another was, Always say some prayers at night because it might turn out that there is a God.
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Stranded in this mill town railroad yard while the whole world was converging elsewhere, we seemed to be nothing but children playing among heroic men.
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So the more things remain the same, the more they change after all.
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It is a sad day when one looks back and sees that his largest regrets have become some of the most integral elements of his dreams.
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But something held me back. Perhaps I was stopped by that level of feeling, deeper than thought, which contains the truth.
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Nothing endures. Not a tree. Not love. Not even death by violence.
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There are simply more young people than there ever were. You get this feeling of strength. Also, large numbers can be a drawback, making it difficult to lose one's anonymity.
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