Quotes: Sadness. Salvation. San Francisco. Sanity. Satire. Sayings. Scene.

Sadness
The best way to cure being sad is to learn something.
Sadness 173 Merlyn: the best thing for being sad…is to learn something. T. H. White, The Once and Future King.

Sadness is for men not beasts, but if they give in to sadness too much, they become beasts.
Sadness 597 Sancho: Master, sadness was made for men, not for beasts, but if men let themselves give way too much to it, they turn into beasts. Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote of La Mancha. Part Two: 1615.

Salvation
There is only one way to be saved: to take the responsibility for all men’s sins.
Salvation 290 There is only one means of salvation, then take yourself and make yourself responsible for all men’s sins. Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov.

San Francisco
The weather in San Francisco is eternal spring.
San Francisco 837 ..the eternal spring of San Francisco…. Twain, Roughing It

Sanity
My method is sane, but my motive and my purpose are mad.
Sanity 199 Ahab: “All my means are sane…. My motive and my object mad.” Eiseley, The Star Thrower

Satire
Successful satire must still be good at a later period.
Satire 77 Dorothy Parker: Successful satire has to be pretty good the day after tomorrow. Cowley, ed., Writers at Work.

Sayings
As they say in Turkey when they cut off the wrong man’s head, “It’s over and can’t be helped.”
Sayings 315 “It’s over, and can’t be helped, and that’s one consolation, as they always says in Turkey, ven they cuts the wrong man’s head off.” Dickens, Pickwick.

Some comforting reflections:
Sayings 677 …with a few comforting reflections, of which the chief were, that after all perhaps it was well it was no worse; the least said the soonest mended…what was over couldn’t be begun, and what couldn’t be cured must be endured…. Dickens, Pickwick.

Scene
Events on a small, rural town’s main street.
Scene 233 Harriet, tempted by everything and swayed by half a word, was always very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslims and changing her mind, Emma went to the door [of the shop] for amusement--much could not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury; Mr. Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the office door, Mr. Cole’s carriage horses returning from exercise, or a stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects she could presume to expect; and...her eyes fell...on the butcher with his tray, a tidy old woman traveling homewards from the shop with her full basket, two curs quarreling over a dirty bone, and a string of dawdling children round the baker’s little bow-window eyeing the gingerbread.... Austen, Emma

Change of color from June to August on some Maine islands.
Scene 443 The month was August, and I had seen the color of the islands change from the fresh green of June to a sunburnt brown that made them look like stone, except where the dark green of the spruces and fir balsam kept the tint that even winter storms might deepen, but not fade. Jewett, The country of the Pointed Firs.

From the point of view of the horse.
Scene 184 The horse knew as well as his master that nothing of particular importance was in hand, and however well he always caught the spirit of the occasion when there was need for hurry, he now jogged along the road, going slowly where the trees cast a pleasant shade, and paying more attention to the flies than to anything else. Jewett, A Country Doctor.

Rowing out into the water in twilight to a point where it seemed shoreless.
Scene 23 When we came down from the lighthouse and it grew late, we would beg for an hour or two longer on the water, and row away in the twilight far out from land, where, with our faces turned from the light, it seemed as if we were alone, and the sea shoreless; and as the darkness closed round us softly, we watched the stars come out, and were always glad to see
Kate’s star and my star, which we had chosen when we were children. Sarah Orne Jewett, Deephaven.

A deserted house in the snow.
Scene 124 I think today of that fireless, empty, forsaken house, where the winter sun shines in and creeps slowly along the floor; the bitter cold is in and around the house, and the snow has sifted in at every crack; outside it is untrodden by any living creature’s footsteps[;] the wind blows and rushes and shakes the loose window-sashes in their frames, while the padlock knocks—knocks against the door. Sarah Orne Jewett, Deephaven.

The sounds of a hotel.
Scene 760 I heard the stir of the hotel; the loud voices of the guests, landlord or barkeeper; steps echoing on the staircase; the ringing of a bell, announcing arrivals or departures; the porter lumbering past my door with baggage, which he thumped down upon the floors of neighboring chambers; the lighter feet of chamber-maids scudding along the passages…. Hawthorne, The Blithedale Romance.