Quote by Edward Hoagland
True solitude is a din of birdsong, seething leaves, whirling colo

True solitude is a din of birdsong, seething leaves, whirling colors, or a clamor of tracks in the snow. – Edward Hoagland

Other quotes by Edward Hoagland

To relive the relationship between owner and slave we can consider how we treat our cars and dogs — a dog exercising a somewhat similar leverage on our mercies and an automobile being comparable in value to a slave in those days. – Edward Hoagland

Category:
Slavery
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There arent many irritations to match the condescension which a woman metes out to a man who she believes has loved her vainly for the past umpteen years. – Edward Hoagland

Category:
Infatuation
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Silence is exhilarating at first – as noise is – but there is a sweetness to silence outlasting exhilaration, akin to the sweetness of listening and the velvet of sleep. – Edward Hoagland

Category:
Silence
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Other Quotes from
Solitude
category

The right to be alone — the most comprehensive of rights, and the right most valued by civilized man. – Louis D. Brandeis

Category:
Solitude

What a commentary on civilization, when being alone is being suspect; when one has to apologize for it, make excuses, hide the fact that one practices it — like a secret vice. – Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Category:
Solitude

Get away from the crowd when you can. Keep yourself to yourself, if only for a few hours daily. – Arthur Brisbane

Category:
Solitude

No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength. – Jack Kerouac

Category:
Solitude

Random Quotes

For visions come not to polluted eyes. – Mary Howitt

Category:
Wise Words

If there is one spot of sun spilling onto the floor, a cat will find it and soak it up. – J.A. McIntosh

Category:
Cats

Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that – Mitch Albom

Category:
Memory

Metaphors are dangerous. Love begins with a metaphor. Which is to say, love begins at the point when a woman enters her first word into our poetic memory. – Milan Kundera

Category:
Love