Three More Life Sentences
So, I collect sentences.
Here are three more that keep gifting insight.
Protest that endures, I think, is moved by a hope far more modest than that of public success: namely, the hope of preserving qualities in one's own heart and spirit that would be destroyed by acquiescence.
- Wendell Berry, What Are People For?
- Maya Angelou
The sentence is remarkable for many reasons, but what I admire most is the pronoun this in front of the noun weather. Choosing the vague this contravenes the advice of the style guides I learned from. Be concrete, be specific, they taught. In this case, though, a list of concrete, specific weather words (good, bad, cold, sunny, rainy, calm, wintry) would only work against Angelou's purpose, which seems to be that what matters is now, and that now is on the move, falling away, made of perishable minutes. It is as vain to try to house passing time as it is to yoke the weather to an adjective. This sentence makes it impossible to complain about the weather—as if we would always be able to complain about the weather. Which is what those dead folks have just learned.
Within a couple of minutes, the whole scene had evaporated, and the pitch was empty.
- Karl Ove Knausgaard, Boyhood Island
You could try to write a sentence to try to capture the sad way that time makes childhood vanish. Or you could choose the verb evaporated, and suggest to the reader that we are made of tears.
You might also be interested previous life sentences. :)