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Daily Soul-Candy


I’ve tried so many times to carry out my big plans in one single step. Didn’t work out. Then I realized that everything needs time. Things and work must ripen. Consistent, hard work always pays off. I guess it’s because the attention and power that is invested every single day into something that is important for us, suddenly comes back multiplied. I’ve been trying to solve this mystery and I still can’t come up with anything better than we must love whatever we do, otherwise we won’t be able to hold on for such a long time so that it can find us again.
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When All Seems Lost — and Even When It Doesn’t…

When All Seems Lost — and Even When It Doesn’t… As a writer, I read more than average. Not necessarily books that fall within my immediate interests, but rather those I can learn from, marvel at, analyze word by word, and sometimes even those that demand more effort from me than usual. That is how it is with Alice Munro. I bought my first book by her when she received the Nobel Prize. Then life happened, and the volume sat on my bookshelf—either I had no time for it, or it lingered somewhere at the bottom of my list of priorities. When I finally picked it up, I could hardly believe my eyes—or my reaction. First, I was utterly outraged; my blood pressure shot through the roof in an instant, and I almost started swearing in disbelief. I had barely skimmed the first few lines, yet that was enough to know: it was perfect. A true masterpiece. Excellence among the excellent. Every word reached the deepest layers of my soul. I was touched by its purity, its delicacy, the noblest simpli...
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Evening thought

Now and then journalists in search of copy ask me what is the most thrilling moment of my life. If I were not ashamed to, I might answer that it is the moment when I began to read Goethe’s Faust. I have never quite lost this feeling, and even now the first pages of a book sometimes send the blood racing through my veins. To me reading is a rest as to other people conversation or a game of cards. It is more than that; it is a necessity, and if I am deprived of it for a little while I find myself as irritable as the addict deprived of his drug. I would sooner read a time-table or a catalogue than nothing at all. That is putting it too low. I have spent many delightful hours poring over the price-list of the Army and Navy Stores, the lists of second-hand took-sellers and the A.B.C. All these are redolent of romance. They are much more entertaining than half the novels that are written. /W.S.Maugham/
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