Frases de Pearl S. Buck

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“Muchas personas se pierden las pequeñas alegrías mientras aguardan la gran felicidad.”

“No se puede parar el tiempo, pero para el amor a veces se detiene”

“El entusiasmo es el pan diario de la juventud. El escepticismo, el vino diario de la vejez.”

“Estar contentos con poco es difícil; con mucho, imposible.”

“El afán de perfección hace a algunas personas totalmente insoportables.”

“Si quieres entender el hoy, tienes que investigar el ayer.”

“Hay algo que decir para perder las posesiones de uno, después de que nada se pueda hacer al respecto”

“Uno enfrenta el futuro con su pasado.”

“El crecimiento en sí contiene el germen de la felicidad.”

“El orden es la forma de la que depende la belleza.”

“Yet somehow our society must make it right and possible for old people not to fear the young or be deserted by them, for the test of a civilization is in the way that it cares for its helpless members.”

“I don't know whether Abraham Lincoln knew exactly what he was doing when he freed the slaves. Perhaps he did it only as a war measure. The war, you remember, dragged along without any heart in it. Nobody seemed to want to fight. There was everything to fight for- the Union, the preservation of a country whole- but the idea of union, even of country, did not seem enough to make men want to fight… There were even plenty of people, accustomed to the small compact nations of Europe, who thought that perhaps this great expanse of America should not be one country, that it might be better if it were divided into nations instead of states. But others were determined that the continual bickering and quarreling between the little nations of Europe should not be repeated here and they were determined to keep the country whole and large, and among these was Abraham Lincoln.”

“Some are kissing mothers and some are scolding mothers, but it is love just the same. ”

“For the truly creative mind in any field is no more than this — a human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create — to create — to create — so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of beauty and meaning his very breath is cut off from him. He must create. He must pour out creation. By some strange unknown pressing inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.”