“It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.”
— Laura McBride, We Are Called to Rise
—
Sandra Cisneros, A House of My Own
“I have a memory which I want to share with you. It’s about a secret practice of women, men, old people, children. We become aware of this practice obliquely, it’s not something we’re looking for, and very quickly we take it for granted […] Consider human lives, their every-minute, every-day lives! Their lives depend upon an agreed regularity to which each contributes. Maintaining this regularity is the forgotten practice I’m talking about.
It explains the arrival of the fruit in the market each day, the lights on the street at night, the letters slipped under the front door, the matches in a match box all pointing in the same direction, music heard on the radio, smiles exchanged between strangers. The regularity has a beat, very distant, often inaudible, and at the same time similar to a heartbeat.
No place for illusions here. The beat doesn’t stop solitude, it doesn’t cure pain, you can’t telephone it—it’s simply a reminder that you belong to a shared story.”
—
John Berger, From A to X: A Story in Letters
—
Danusha Leméris, “Small Kindnesses”
“No, somebody always needs to go first. I know this. I go first.”
— Jenny Slate, Little Weirds
“I’ve never told you this,” she said. “But there’s something about taking the cart back instead of leaving it in the parking lot. I don’t know when this came to me; it was a few years ago. There’s a difference between leaving it where you empty it and taking it back to the front of the store. It’s significant.” “Because somebody has to take them in.” “Yes. And if you know that, and you do it for that one guy, you do something else. You join the world…You move out of your isolation and become universal.”
— Andre Dubus, “Out of the Snow”, Dancing After Hours
— Ross Gay, The Book of Delights
“I’ve never managed to get used to seeing people die. That’s all I know. Yet after all—" Rieux fell silent and sat down. He felt his mouth dry. “After all—?” Tarrou prompted softly. “After all,” the doctor repeated, then hesitated again, fixing his eyes on Tarrou, “it’s something that a man of your sort can understand most likely, but, since the order of the world is shaped by death, mightn’t it be better for God if we refuse to believe in Him and struggle with all our might against death, without raising our eyes toward the heaven where He sits in silence.” Tarrou nodded. “Yes. But your victories will never be lasting; that’s all.” Rieux’s face darkened. “Yes, I know that. But it’s no reason for giving up the struggle.”
— Albert Camus,The Plague
— Charles Schulz, Peanuts, May 11, 1956
—
Philip Larkin, “An Arundel Tomb”
I used to be the guy that had to collect the supermarket carts.
