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As I said, this was my sarcastic summer. It was only long after that I recognized sarcasm as the protest of people who are weak.

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
People
Sarcasm
Sarcastic
Recognized
Protest
Summer
Weak
Long

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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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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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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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Sarcasm... the protest of those who are weak.
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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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All of them, all except Phineas, constructed at infinite cost to themselves these Maginot Lines against this enemy they thought they saw across the frontier, this enemy who never attacked that way-if he ever attacked at all if he was indeed the enemy.
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The best teaching I ever experienced was at Exeter. Yale was a distinct letdown afterward.
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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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As I walked briskly out the road the wind knifed at my face, but this sun caressed the back of my neck.
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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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I began to know that each morning reasserted the problems of night before, that sleep suspended all but changed nothing, that you couldn’t make yourself over between dawn and dusk.
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But I was used to finding something deadly in things that attracted me there was always something deadly lurking in anything I wanted, anything I loved.
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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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Nothing endures. Not a tree. Not love. Not even death by violence.
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Everyone has a moment in history which belongs particularly to him.
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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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So the more things remain the same, the more they change after all.
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