{"author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh","total_quotes":82,"quotes":[{"text":"Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee and just as hard to sleep after.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["conversation"],"id":9450,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"},{"text":"A simple enough pleasure  surely  to have breakfast alone with one's husband  but how seldom married people in the midst of life achieve it.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["marriage"],"id":13054,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"},{"text":"One can never pay in gratitude  one can only pay 'in kind' somewhere else in life.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["forgiveness"],"id":13334,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"},{"text":"And then, some morning in the second week, the mind wakes, comes to life again. Not in a city sense—no—but beach-wise. It begins to drift, to play, to turn over in gentle careless rolls like those lazy waves on the beach. One never knows what chance treasures these easy unconscious rollers may toss up, on the smooth white sand of the conscious mind; what perfectly rounded stone, what rare shell from the ocean floor. Perhaps a channeled whelk, a moon shell, or even an argonaut.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["awakening","beach","chance","shells","waking-life"],"id":17047,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"},{"text":"Him that I love, I wish to be free -- even from me.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["free","in-love","love","love-him","unbound"],"id":17418,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"},{"text":"One cannot collect all the beautiful shells on the beach.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["beach"],"id":17842,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"},{"text":"It takes as much courage to have tried and failed as it does to have tried and succeeded.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["success"],"id":23978,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"},{"text":"Lost time is like a run in a stocking. It always gets worse.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["one","day"],"id":26599,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"},{"text":"I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being concious of living.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["writing"],"id":37628,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"},{"text":"There is, of course, always the personal satisfaction of writing down one's experiences so they may be saved, caught and pinned under glass, hoarded against the winter of forgetfulness. Time has been cheated a little, at least in one's own life, and a personal, trivial immortality of an old self assured. And there is another personal satisfaction: that of the people who like to recount their adventures, the diary-keepers, the story-tellers, the letter-writers, a strange race of people who feel half cheated of an experience unless it is retold. It does not really exist until it is put into words. As though a little doubting or dull, they could not see it until it is repeated. For, paradoxically enough, the more unreal an experience becomes - translated from real action into unreal words, dead symbols for life itself - the more vivid it grows. Not only does it seem more vivid, but its essential core becomes clearer. One says excitedly to an audience, 'Do you see - I can't tell you how strange it was - we all of us felt...' although actually, at the time of incident, one was not conscious of such a feeling, and only became so in the retelling. It is as inexplicable as looking all afternoon at a gray stone of a beach, and not realizing, until one tries to put it on canvas, that is in reality bright blue.","author":"Anne Morrow Lindbergh","tags":["experiences","feeling","journals","meaning","stories","time","writing"],"id":44929,"author_id":"Anne+Morrow+Lindbergh"}],"pagination":{"page":1,"page_size":10,"total":82,"pages":9,"next":"?page=2\u0026page_size=10"}}