Married couples who quarrel bitterly every day may really need each other as deeply as those who appear to be desperately in love.
Edward AbbeyRead
Any hack can safely rail away at foreign powers beyond the sea; but a good writer is a critic of the society he lives in.
Interpretation
A true writer critiques and reflects on their own society rather than targeting external entities.
Edward Abbey's quote emphasizes the responsibility of a writer to engage with and critique the social issues of their own culture. While it may be easy to criticize foreign powers from a distance, a skilled writer must analyze and provide insight into the societal dynamics at home, contributing to a deeper understanding of their community and provoking thought and discussion among its members.
In practice
In a writing workshop, discussing the role of writers in society.
Married couples who quarrel bitterly every day may really need each other as deeply as those who appear to be desperately in love.
I love America because it is a confused, chaotic mess - and I hope we can keep it this way for at least another thousand years. The permissive society is the free society.
If it's knowledge and wisdom you want, then seek out the company of those who do real work for an honest purpose.
The earth is real. Only a fool, milking his cow, denies the cow's reality.
I believe in nothing that I cannot touch, kiss, embrace.... The rest is only hearsay.
Why can't we simply borrow what is useful to us from Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism, especially Zen, as we borrow from Christianity, science, American Indian traditions and world literature in general, including philosophy, and let the rest go hang? Borrow what we need but rely principally upon our own senses, common sense and daily living experience.
What shall we think of a well-adjusted slave?
Soft pity enters an iron gate.
Impartial - unable to perceive any promise of personal advantage from espousing either side of a controversy.
The other gods were strong; but thou wast weak; they rode, but thou didst stumble to a throne; But to our wounds only God's wounds can speak, And not a god has wounds, but thou alone.
It now lately sometimes seemed a black miracle to me that people could actually care deeply about a subject or pursuit, and could go on caring this way for years on end. Could dedicate their entire lives to it. It seemed admirable and at the same time pathetic. We are all dying to give our lives away to something, maybe.
I have lived eighty years of life and know nothing for it, but to be resigned and tell myself that flies are born to be eaten by spiders and man to be devoured by sorrow.
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