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If I were to choose one single thing that that would restore Paris to the senses, it would be that strangely sweet, unhealthy smell of the Métro, so very unlike the dank cold or the stuffy heat of subways in New York.

May Sarton

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May Sarton
Age: 83 †
Born: 1912
Born: May 3
Died: 1995
Died: July 16
Diarist
Poet
Writer
May Eleanor Sarton
Choose
Restore
Cold
Unlike
Single
Paris
Subways
Thing
Heat
Stuffy
Would
Senses
Dank
Smell
Strangely
York
Subway
Sweet
Unhealthy

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It is possible, I suppose, that we are returning to a Dark Age. What is frightening is that violence is not only represented by nations, but everywhere walks among us freely.
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we are never done with thinking about our parents, I suppose, and come to know them better long after they are dead than we ever did when they were alive.
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We are able to laugh when we achieve detachment, if only for a moment.
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I have never written a book that was not born out of a question I needed to answer for myself.
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It is sometimes the most fragile things that have the power to endure and become sources of strength.
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How much hope, expectation, and sheer hard work goes into the smallest success! There is no being sure of anything except that whatever has been created will change in time.
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They are commiting murder who merely live.
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life is always bringing unexpected gifts.
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One must think like a hero to behave like a merely decent human being.
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I suppose real old age begins when one looks backward rather than forward
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The garden is growth and change and that means loss as well as constant new treasures to make up for a few disasters.
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There the door is always open into the “holy” — growth, birth, death.
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May we agree that private life is irrelevant? Multiple, mixed, ambiguous at best - out of it we try to fashion the crystal clear, the singular, the absolute, and that is what is relevant that is what matters.
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