A Well-Tempered Heart

It is our own flaws that we are least ready to forgive in others.

We are responsible not only for what we do, but also for what we fail to do.

Is it true that we can count the moments in which something really happens in our lives? Do we notice it right away, or only in hindsight?

What do violent individuals fear most? Violence? I should say not! By what do the cruel and selfish feel most threatened? All of them fear nothing as much as they fear love.

To forgive, one must love and be loved. Only those who forgive can be free. Whoever forgives is a prisoner no more.

How many times must we be loved in order to be happy?

What are people with guns most afraid of? Other people with guns? No! What do violent individuals fear most? Violence? I should say not! By what do the cruel and selfish feel most threatened? All of them fear nothing as much as they fear love.

We wish to be loved as we ourselves would love. Any other way makes us uncomfortable.

According to her we are each our own greatest mystery, and our life’s work is to solve ourselves. None of us ever succeeds, she says, but it is our duty to follow the trail. Regardless of how long it is or where it might

We often discover only many years later whether life and the stars were smiling upon us or not. Life can take the most surprising turns. What

In the hell of the well-intentioned.” That was how he referred to the charity balls my mother helped organize.

By how many people must we be loved in order to be happy? Two? Five? Ten? Or maybe only one? The one who gives us sight. Who takes away fear. Who breathes meaning into our existence. There

What’s more, they had taught him to be friendly and helpful to others. Not because he owed it to them. Because he owed it to himself.

Not all truths are explicable. Not all explicable things are true.

Loneliness is the most severe punishment. We are not built to handle it. I

Images can fade. Sounds and smells disappear from our memory. But our heart forgets nothing. A child’s soul knows everything.

Why do we so often put off the things that matter most to us?

HOW THIN IS the wall between us and madness? No one knows what it is made of. No one knows how much pressure it can withstand. Until it gives. We all live on the edge.

Besides, I have no point of comparison," he declared, his eyes still closed. "That is the secret of a happy life.

The world was full of signs. One needed only to know how to see and interpret them.

THE FIRST TIME she left the house with her sleeping son in her arms, still unsteady on her legs, gripping the railing tightly, she surveyed the yard, astonished. It was at once familiar and strange. Something was different, though she could not immediately put her finger on it. The morning sun beamed through the bushes. The leaves of the banana plants seemed greener, their fruit larger and yellower. The hibiscus and the bougainvillea had never looked so beautiful. A warm breeze caressed her skin. Maung Sein was perched on a log below her, chopping kindling. Stroke by stroke he would split branches as thick as a fist. The uniformity of his movements radiated something infinitely reassuring. Nu Nu looked at Ko Gyi in her arms. He had her nose. Her mouth. Her cinnamon skin. She cautiously took one of his little hands. It was warm. And would always remain so. Suddenly he opened one blinking eye, and then quickly the other. He had her eyes, too, without a doubt. Ko Gyi regarded his mother earnestly, intently. She smiled. His deep brown eyes did not move. They looked for a long time at each other. Then a quiet smile drifted across his face. No one had ever smiled at her that

Laughter has many meanings here. We laugh when something is unpleasant. When we are afraid. When we are angry.” “Is it a kind of

THERE ARE MEMORIES we cannot escape. We take them with us wherever we go, however far, like it or not. They pursue us or accompany us in good times and in bad. We smell their scents. We hear their sounds. We delight in them or dread them. By day and by night. My

Were there people who simply did not belong together? Who loved each other, but who were nevertheless happier when they were apart? Certainly

Themes so vast that only composers could even approach them. If at all. All other artists must practice humility before them.

Anyone who has been the victim of violence carries that violence inside himself. Anyone

To live means to suffer. Nothing is permanent.

The master is mistaken: to live is to love.