My Journal Quotes

A Thought from the heart"
To begin anew is to breathe
To open your heart is to see
To allow change is to embrace
To love is to be open to the truth ~ Nikki Shiva

My goofiest-sounding secret is that I also believe in magic. Sometimes I call it God and sometimes I call it light, and I believe in it because every now and then I read a really good book or hear a really good song or have a really good conversation with a friend and they seem to have some kind of shine to them. The list I keep of these moments in the back of my journal is comprised less of times when I was laughing or smiling and more of times when I felt like I could feel the colors in my eyes deepening from the display before me. Times in which I felt I was witnessing an all-encompassing representation of life driven by an understanding that, coincidence or not, our existence is a peculiar thing, and perhaps the greatest way to honor it is to just be human. To be happy AND sad, and everything else. And yeah, living is a pain, and I say I hate everyone and everything, and I don't exude much enthusiasm when sandwiched between fluorescent lighting and vinyl flooring for seven hours straight, and I will probably mumble a bunch about how much I wish I could sleep forever the next time I have to wake up at 6 AM. But make no mistake about it: I really do like living. I really, truly do. ~ Tavi Gevinson

My touring isn't about collecting souvenirs and always being on the go. My souvenirs are writing in my journal and creating new music, because that fits easily into my backpack when I'm travelling around the world. It's something that I can share later with fans or with future family members. ~ Jason Mraz

It is hard to be with another's pain if we cannot be with our own. Since I was a child I have always felt a deep sense of responsibility to ease others' pain. But I have discovered that often, beneath this genuine and admirable desire, lies an inability to be with my own sorrow. Several years ago, watching a close friend suffer when a brain aneurysm took away her life as she knew it, I wrote in my journal, I won't ask much. But if you would just let me save your life, perhaps it will not hurt so much to know I cannot save my own. ~ Oriah Dreamer

There are certain things that make me relax, like writing my journal. That's the only time that I'm relaxing. It's the only time I really get to examine myself. ~ Jessica Simpson

A phrase may come to me as I am walking, and, once I write it down in my journal, the rest of the poem will unravel from that catalyst. ~ Stephen Vincent Benet

Often as a poet I find that I am somewhat outside an experience I want to hold onto, consciously taking mental notes or writing them down in my journal - for fear that I will forget. It's not unlike being on a trip and taking pictures, your face behind a camera the whole time - the entire experience mediated by a lens. ~ Natasha Trethewey

Would the pair of you like to turn your backs so you exclude us more effectively?" Jode asks.

"We're just adding to the list." I hold up my journal.

"Daryn." Gideon shakes his head, pretending to be disappointed. "It's our list."

"A list?" Jode leans back, resting his head against his bag. "What's this list about?"

Rather than explain it, I just lean over and give it to him.

Gideon puts his hand over his heart and winces. "I hate sharing, Martin."

I lean up, whispering in his ear. "Some things are only for you."

He gives me a long unblinking look that makes my face burn and my body feel light and hot.

"This is an outrage," Jode says dryly. "I'm in here once and Gideon is here … two, three, four times?"

"Three," I say. "The last one doesn't really count."

"Oh, it counts," Gideon says.

"How many times am I in it?" Marcus asks.

"Are you guys making this a competition?"

"Of course."

"Yeah."

"Definitely. And I'm dominating."

"For real," Marcus says. "How many times am I on there?"

"Once, like me. For your winning smile." Jode closes the notebook and tosses it to Marcus. "But don't let it go to your head. Gideon's arse has a spot on the list as well."

Gideon looks at me and winks. "Like I said, dominating."

"Dare, you got a pen?" Marcus asks.

This catches me by surp ~ Veronica Rossi

I pretty much drink a cup of coffee, write in my journal for a while, and then sit at a computer in my office and torture the keys. My one saving grace as a writer is that, if I'm having trouble with the novel I'm writing, I write something else, a poem or a short story. I try to avoid writer's block by always writing something. ~ Jess Walter

I still love writing in my journal and wearing sparkly dresses and looking at old chandeliers. ~ Taylor Swift

I lied!' I spat my whisper at him. 'I knew you read my journal. I knew you read my dreams. I wrote there what I thought would hurt you most! I lied to hurt you. For letting him be dead while you lived. For being loved by him more than he loved me!' I took a breath. 'He loved you more than he ever loved any of the rest of us! ~ Robin Hobb

May 18, 2018

Some days I could fly and feel very happy. I record those days in my journal for I know that I will feel very sad again. And I need proof that I will be very happy again. Thankfully, I feel very happy tonight. Goodnight. ~ Juansen Dizon

In fact, the most interesting writing I did during those days was the plain everyday observations that I recorded in my journal. Descriptions of a neighbor... Local gossip. A kind of reporting, a style of 'seeing' and 'hearing' that would later seriously influence me, though I was unaware of it then, for all my 'formal' writing, the stuff that I published and carefully typed, was more or less fictional. ~ Truman Capote

It's a soulful Sunday, somehow I found myself pulling out my journal and started writing a letter to Sensuality. And it goes like this: Sensuality...

You've opened me up to a world of possibilities and set me on an adventure that has never ceased to amaze me. You have led me through unfounded territories. Through the highest highs and lowest lows I've felt your current, sometimes raging like an angry sea and at times blowing as gentle as a cool summer breeze.

You've filled me with such an insatiable desire, which has been both a curse and a blessing. You've sensitized my soul, made it to feel even the most gentle touch of the lightest feather. You daily seduce me into your deep waters, waters so deep I find myself drowning, yet not losing my breath.

Sensuality... I love how you soothe me when I'm hurting. I love how you comfort and put me back together when I'm feeling broken. I love how you whisper in my ear and say 'do not despair, I'm here.' You uncover my deepest desires and set my soul on fire. You light me up and make me shine like the brightest star on a clear summer night.

There's never a dull moment with you. Just when I think there can't possibly be more, you show me again and again that there's always another level... another layer... another blessing. Your mysteries never run out. I've come know you like God's very own presence. Indeed, you are His very own favour to my soul. His divine beauty, passion and wisdom have I ~ Lebo Grand

I was shut off from my body; I had barely thought about sexuality or longing. Up until this point, my sexual experiences had felt business like or even transactional...I hadn't been suppressing urges or denying my needs. I didn't feel like I had any, not corporeal ones. My journal entries from that time speak to depression and feelings of isolation, fears that a friend would leave, a sense that I had been responsible for my mother's departure and would therefore cause anyone I loved or needed to leave. I was still spending most of my time in my head. I was removed from my own feelings. ~ Carrie Brownstein

I have obsessed about my weight in some sort of way all my life. I used to write in my journal what I weighed every day. ~ Valerie Bertinelli

Everything that we were, everything we based our lives upon, everything that we believed is gone. In my journal one time, I expressed the feeling of hurt that I carry around, so similar to the feeling of being betrayed, and I concluded that I had been betrayed, by Life itself, and that's pretty deep. So, the betrayed ones, like you and me, have to start all over again, from Absolute Zero, and construct some new version of "Life," one that we can "live with." No way we can hold onto what we used to believe, and no way we can forget what has actually happened in our lives, and in our worlds. We will never trust Life again. ~ Neil Peart

My journal is my life's companion. ~ Christina Baldwin

So tonight I reach for my journal again. This is the first time I've done this since I came to Italy. What I write in my journal is that I am weak and full of fear. I explain that Depression and Loneliness have shown up, and I'm scared they will never leave. I say that I don't want to take the drugs anymore, but I'm frightened I will have to. I am terrified that I will never really pull my life together.
In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now-familiar presence, offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled. This is what I find myself writing on the page:

I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long. I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it - I will love you through that, as well. If you don't need the medication, I will love you, too. There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and Braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

Tonight, this strange interior gesture of friendship - the lending of a hand from
me to myself when nobody else is around to offer solace - reminds me of something that happened to me once in New York City. I walked into an office building one afternoon in a hurry, dashed into the waiting elevator. As I rushed in, I caught an unexpected glance of myself in ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

I see what you think of me,' said he, gravely; 'I shall make but a poor figure in your journal to-morrow.'
My journal!'
Yes; I know exactly what you will say:- Friday went to the Lower Rooms; wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings- plain black shoes- appeared to much advantage; but was strangely harassed by a queer, half-witted man, who would make me dance with him, and distressed me by his nonsense. ~ Jane Austen

What in the sodding Dark happened back there on Aarden? What did you find?"

He stared at her hand for a long moment. His cheek muscle bunched rhythmically, a tell she had learned meant he was struggling over some internal debate. Sigel's Wives burned down from above; Sherp went on snoring away, and Scow appeared to be giving chase again. Mung, Voth and Rantham hadn't moved from where they lay in some time, either, and Biiko was at his post. This was about as alone as they could ever hope to be.

She reached up with her other hand, feather-soft, touched his cheek, his chin. It was rough with stubble, the same fiery copper-and-chestnut as his hair. His jaw stopped twitching and he closed his eyes, but did not resist as she gently turned his head to face her. She could hear the subtle trembling in his breathing and leaned closer, licked her cracked lips.

"Triistan, please...tell me what terrible secret you are guarding..." she whispered, barely a breath really, but his eyes snapped open as if she'd struck him. He looked so sad.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. Then he was standing, gently disengaging himself from her, and moving towards Biiko where he stood his watch on the other side of the launch. He paused a moment at the mainmast and she thought he might come back, but he only turned his head, speaking over his shoulder without looking at her. His voice was heavy with sorrow.

"Please don't take my journal again." Without botheri ~ T.B. Schmid

You. You are the last page of hundred pages I have written in my journal. Filling its pages with special kind of spoken words without a sound, and the I Love You that's been written and rewritten countless times. After all this time that I spent writing about you in my journals, can you still not understand? Only you can fill this quietness and emptiness, only you can take this grief away, isn't it obvious? Who else will save your soul and mine? God knows, it is you that will heal the holes and cracks of times. ~ Mookhatchka Khalid

I wish I hadn't met you in the rain: it comes every winter.
I wish you hadn't told me your favorite wine: I've become a drinker.
I wish I never showed you my hidden birthmark:
It looks back at me at night asking where you are.
I wish I hadn't read you my journal, all the pages praising you,
It's corrupted now that I can't tell if I write for me or you.
I wish I hadn't told you my daily routine: it's not mine anymore.
I can't enjoy 11:11, my favorite song, a birthday cake, or a concert tour.
I'm not afraid of the future, it's the past that takes a while. ~ Karl Kristian Flores

Sometimes I was in a mood to write a song as if I was writing in my journal and reveal certain parts of me that I was ready to reveal. ~ Madonna Ciccone

I have a thing - I call it magic - but I feel like I can write stuff down in the middle of the night and wake up and it happens. I write what I want in my journal. ~ Ester Dean

I wanted to write in my journal but couldn't bring myself to. There are so many shades to what passed through me in those days. And I would shrink from committing myself to paper because the light would change before the word was out, the ink was dry. ~ Audre Lorde

And wonders of wonders, they both shut up and did as I said.
If I'd had time I would have pulled out my journal and made a note: Shame and Terric actually listened to me for once. Warn Hell. There's a freeze coming. ~ Devon Monk

derelict. my voice cracked and yolk poured out. wind chimes rigid, no breeze, no song. my wings found hidden in your suitcase. pleas for help mistaken for a swan song. i'm stuffing pages from my journal down my throat as kindling. hoping the smoke will get the taste of you out of my mouth. he looks at me from across the room and all i want is to push him against the wall. ravage. ravage. carnage has never been more vogue. is it still art if it doesn't bring you to your knees? lover, let me prey at your altar. let me bare my fangs in praise. don't i look so pretty in a funeral shroud? i keep time with the click of my creaking bones. dance with me under the milky translucence of a world suffocating. how did you find me? i buried myself beneath the cicadas. is a girl trapped in glass still a prize?
let me get under your skin. i want to know what your fears taste like. i want to consume. ~ Taylor Rhodes

Dear Tully
I know you won't be able to stand my fucking funeral. You're not the star. I hope you at least had the photos of me airbrushed. There are so many things I should say to you, but in our lifetime we've said them all.
Take care of Johnny and the kids for me, okay? Teach the boys how to be gentlemen and Marah how to be strong. When they're ready, give them my journal and tell them about me when they ask. The truth, too. I want them to know it all.
It's going to be hard on you, now. That's one of the things I regret the most. So, here's what I have to say in my beyond-the-grave letter (very dramatic, don't you think?):
I know you'll be thinking that I left you, but it's not true. All you have to do is remember Firefly Lane, and you'll find me.
There will always be a TullyandKate.
BFF <3
Kate ~ Kristin Hannah

These handwritten words in the pages of my journal confirm that from an early age I have experienced each encounter in my life twice: once in the world, and once again on the page. ~ Terry Tempest Williams

I don't remember having one conversation with my dad in the three days I was home, but looking back at my journal, I see I wrote about him. I scrawled about how I heard him telling my mom that I needed to go back. I was unhappy; he thought the hiking was better for me.
I wonder why he told these things to my mother, nothing to me.

I wonder if overhearing his approval encouraged me to finally fly back to the trail. Maybe. Maybe my father's faith in my walk - in me - made me feel strong enough to leave. His actual words, as I wrote them in my notebook, were, "She's an adult now, she can do what she wants. It doesn't mean she's not selfish." He almost understood. ~ Aspen Matis

My friend is composing an epic in Byronic stanzas entitled "True History of Autua, Last Moriori" & interrupts my journal writing to ask what rhymes with what: - "Streams of blood"? "Themes of mud"? "Robin Hood"? ~ David Mitchell

Talking to myself in my journal qualified as talking to someone my own age. ~ Benjamin Alire Saenz

In my time at the Cove, I'd spent many nights scribbling in my journal, attempting to write my way into a solution, into some kind of clarity and acceptance about what I'd lost and where I'd go from here. But maybe clarity was like love, shooting through you when you least expected it, when you'd finally stopped seeking it. ~ Sarah Ockler

To Nobody, then, will I write my Journal! since to Nobody can I be wholly unreserved, to Nobody can I reveal every thought, every wish of my heart, with the most unlimited confidence, the most unremitting sincerity, to the end of my life! ~ Fanny Burney

The snail had been a true mentor; its tiny existence had sustained me. Late one winter night I wrote in my journal:
A last look at the stars and then to sleep. Lots to do at whatever pace I can go. I must remember the snail. Always remember the snail. ~ Elisabeth Tova Bailey

And you never fall behind?"
"Of course I do. But I always feel guilty when that happens. After all, my journal is the oldest and most loyal friend I have. And it never interrupts me when I'm speaking," he added, with a boyish grin. ~ Zack Love

The hardest thing is that I'll never know exactly what I lost, how much it should hurt, how long I should keep thinking about him. He took that mystery with him when he died, and a hundred thousand one-sided letters in my journal wouldn't have brought me any closer to the truth than I was at the night I pressed my fingers to the sea glass he wore around his neck and kissed him back. ~ Sarah Ockler

I always loved writing, but I feel like I really started writing when I got my BlackBerry . It was the first time I could take these crazy thoughts in my head and actually get them out. This little device became my journal on the road. ~ Duff McKagan

I experienced a lot of loss after his death. I lost my city because of all the paparazzi descending upon us. I actually lost my journal during that time, oddly enough. I literally couldn't hold on to anything. ~ Michelle Williams

A page of my journal is like a cake of portable soup. A little may be diffused into a considerable portion. ~ James Boswell

Sometimes, what people choose to write down on paper is more important than what they say.
Caleb didn't know what Sarah meant. But I knew. I wrote in my journal every night. And when I read what I had written, I could see myself there, clearer than when I looked in the mirror. I could see all of us: Papa, who couldn't always say the things he felt; Caleb, who said everything; and Sarah, who didn't know that she had changed us all. ~ Patricia MacLachlan

I love going to the movies and being moved emotionally. I like my work, singing and writing in my journal. ~ Elizabeth Daily

The sounds of voices and laughter are like little pebbles.
All around us.
We can reach up and scoop them up in our hands.
Holding them close to us.
Saving them forever.


When I reach my journal to Grandfather, he smiled.
"Forever," he said, more to himself than to me.
He walked over to the driveway and bent down. Then he came back to where I stood. He took my hand and put a pebble there.
"I…," he said.
"Love…" He put another pebble there.
"You," he said as he placed the last one.
I stared at them for a long time, then closed my hand over them. When I looked up again, Grandfather was gone. ~ Patricia MacLachlan

Every day I wrote in my journal: "How am I going to win today?" So that when the guys are talking about water-boarding I'm telling them they haven't even got the right towels. ~ Tina Fey

My centaur, Annette thinks, as she looks out the window trying to ignore Dwayne, would find my journal interesting and moving. ~ Megan Giddings

I pick up my journal, mug, and granola bar wrapper, look up to the sky, and curse the God of Summer Vacations for getting me into this whole albatross-ditching, Sam-avoiding, aiding-and-abetting mess in the first place. ~ Sarah Ockler

I sat on the bench outside of class today and talked to Jon. I read to him from my journal, it was the part about the accordian player I was watching on the street last weekend. He said that an accordian is such a perfect metaphor for Love, because you are always opening, and closing, shifting, and getting air, and that's how the music happens. True. ~ Sabrina Ward Harrison

My journal has become a paper mirror, a topographic map to my mind. It is where I go to sort out confusion and decipher the invisible. ~ Dawna Markova

I used to love writing in my journal. ~ Tyra Banks

She shot him a look.

"What?" he asked.

"Where's my journal? I want to jot this down for posterity."

Huh?

He lifted a confused brow and she smirked, ornery light glinting in her amber brow.

"You just spoke, like what? A whole four sentences? Not to mention there were a few adjectives thrown in there. That must be some sort of record. It should be memorialized accordingly, don't you think? She batted her lashed.

Jesus, the woman was too much. ~ Julie Ann Walker

As far as my journal, I want to share tour life with my fans. ~ Natalie Gulbis

Now, Sophia, would you care to tell me why you're here by the pond instead of reporting to your next class?'
'I'm experiencing some teenage angst, Mrs. Casnoff,' I answered. 'I need to, like, write in my journal or something. ~ Rachel Hawkins

I took out my journal. I'd been avoiding writing in it. I think I was afraid all my anger would spill out on the pages. And I just didn't want to look at all that rage. It was a different kind of pain. A pain I couldn't stand. I tried not to think. I just started writing. ~ Benjamin Alire Saenz

I paint the way some people write their autobiography. The paintings, finished or not, are the pages of my journal, and as such they are valid. The future will choose the pages it prefers. It's not up to me to make the choice. I have the impression that the time is speading on past me more and more rapidly. I'm like a river that rolls on, dragging with it the trees that grow too close to its banks or dead calves one might have thrown into it or any kind of microbes that develop in it. I carry all that along with me and go on. It's the movement of painting that interests me, the dramatic movement from one effort to the next, even if those efforts are perhaps not pushed to their ultimate end. In some of my paintings I can say with certainty that the effort has been brought to its full weight and its conclusion, because there I have been able to stop the flow of time around me. I have less and less time, and yet I have more and more to say, and what I have to say is,increasingly, something about what goes on in the movement of my thought. I've reached the moment, you see, when the movement of my thought interests me more than the thought itself. ~ Francoise Gilot

Why shouldn't a mystical theology be possible? 'I want to touch God or become God,' I declared in my journal. All through that year I abandoned myself intermittently to these deliriums. ~ Simone De Beauvoir

It's strange how you give the people you love so much power over you, I had written in my journal. But Shawn had more power over me than I could possibly have imagined. He had defined me to myself, and there's no greater power than that. ~ Tara Westover

Almost every morning I write in my journal. I've been keeping it for a long time - I've filled more than 50 books. I write about what's going on in my personal and spiritual life or what's going on at work. It helps me keep things in perspective, especially when things get crazy or I get stressed or we have obstacles. ~ Blake Mycoskie

When my journal appears, many statues must come down. ~ Arthur Wellesley

These days I keep a journal, so I'm constantly sketching down my thoughts, or lines that come to me ... ideas for songs. And then when I have a moment to myself, I'll sit down with my guitar and open my journal, and start kind of massaging things together, and see if a song takes shape. Or sometimes, I'll just be hanging out with my guitar and come up with a chord progression or a lick, and that'll sort of sit around for a while waiting to marry itself to some words. So it's sort of haphazard and it's like ... junk culture. I go around finding shiny objects and I glue them together laughs. ~ Ani DiFranco

I wrote in my journal about how good I felt when I was not living under Ed's control. Then, when I really felt like giving up, I read these pages and realized that I was striving for in recovery was a real possibility. I thought about these experiences and used them as encouragement to keep moving forward. Even one minute of freedom was proof that I was getting better. At first, these times were few and far between. Now, these moments are connected; they are my life ~ Jenni Schaefer

After half an hour of forced family fun, in which I score fifty points and take out at least seventy-five percent of my anger trying to blast Frankie with the ball, our game is cut short. Princess gets stung on the top of her foot by a teeny-tiny newborn baby of a jelly-fish and carries on like some shark just swam away with her torso. For one brief moment I wonder if it's the ghost of my journal, reincarnated after its watery death to claim vengeance by stabbing her with its thin metal spiral. The thought makes me smile on the inside, just a little bit. ~ Sarah Ockler

Studied all year and wrote in my journal like a nun works a Rosary, dog with a new bone, bee in his hive's back room. ~ Dennis Vickers

Hurry along, then," I said, grabbing my orchid and securing it safely in my journal. "I want to sit by the window."

"Hmm."

"What now?" I asked, losing patience.

"I usually sit by the window. You may have to sit in my lap. ~ Kerri Maniscalco

There were times, in the beginning, when I used my journal as a wailing wall, but I learned not to immortalize the darkness. Rereading it was counterproductive. What I needed was a place in which to collect the light. ~ Phyllis Theroux

That night I wrote in my journal: Trees are schizophrenic now and beginning to lose control, enraged with the shock of their fiery new colors. Someone
was it van Gogh?
said that orange is the color of insanity. _Beauty is terror._ We want to be devoured by it, to hide ourselves in that fire which refines us. ~ Donna Tartt

The day my mother died I wrote in my journal, "A serious misfortune of my life has arrived." I suffered for more than one year after the passing away of my mother. But one night, in the highlands of Vietnam, I was sleeping in the hut in my hermitage. I dreamed of my mother. I saw myself sitting with her, and we were having a wonderful talk. She looked young and beautiful, her hair flowing down. It was so pleasant to sit there and talk to her as if she had never died. When I woke up it was about two in the morning, and I felt very strongly that I had never lost my mother. The impression that my mother was still with me was very clear. I understood then that the idea of having lost my mother was just an idea. It was obvious in that moment that my mother is always alive in me.

I opened the door and went outside. The entire hillside was bathed in moonlight. It was a hill covered with tea plants, and my hut was set behind the temple halfway up. Walking slowly in the moonlight through the rows of tea plants, I noticed my mother was still with me. She was the moonlight caressing me as she had done so often, very tender, very sweet... wonderful! Each time my feet touched the earth I knew my mother was there with me. I knew this body was not mine but a living continuation of my mother and my father and my grandparents and great-grandparents. Of all my ancestors. Those feet that I saw as "my" feet were actually "our" feet. Together my mother and I were leaving footprints in ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Writing [my journal] was the only way I could keep track of the last experience before a new one came along and erased the old one from my thoughts. ~ Kristine K. Stevens

In the absence of my beloved and much-derided crime board,' she said, 'I've been reduced to writing things in my journal like some sort of medieval peasant.' She ~ T E Kinsey

After the writer's death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter. ~ Jean Cocteau

A journal takes the place of a confidant, that is, of friend or wife; it becomes a substitute for production, a substitute for country and public. It is a grief-cheating device, a mode of escape and withdrawal; but, factotum as it is, though it takes the place of everything, properly speaking it represents nothing at all ... ~ Henri Frederic Amiel

Your goals and dreams must be written in journal or notebook. This will ignites a fire, divine power and divine strength within your soul. You will begin to reach out for your goals and dreams. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

Writing in Library Journal, Ben Vershbow of the Institute for the Future of Book envisioned a digital ecology in which "parts of books will reference parts of other books. Books will be woven toghether out of components in remote databases and servers." Kevin Kelly wrote in The New York times Magagzine: "In the the new world of books, every bit informs another; every page reads all the other pages. ~ Jeff Jarvis

If you want to write, you need to keep an honest, unpublishable journal that nobody reads, nobody but you. ~ Madeleine L'Engle

The Democratic Party's problem is that voters don't believe the president's claims that the economy is thriving. Even people with jobs feel apprehensive. Paychecks are flat, growth anemic, and people are worried about their children's prospects. Mr. Obama had a 38% approval on handling the economy in the Sept. 9 Fox News poll. In the Sept. 7 NBC News/Wall Street Journal poll, 67% believe America is on the wrong track. ~ Karl Rove

Here is individual responsibility and the invention of conscience. You can if you will but it is up to you. This little story(from the Bible)turns out to be one of the most profound in the world. I always felt it was,but now I know it is.
~ John Steinbeck

Finn was meant to find that journal. To find me. To be a salve, and perhaps even heal, a heart I'd worried was destined to ache forever. ~ Jessica Hawkins

I swore I'd never become some lord's brainless arm ornament and political host, but I've become far worse. I'm a glorified housekeeper and sperm donor.
-from the journal of Payton Marcus Townsend. ~ J.L. Langley

Historians and scholars have access to every issue of every newspaper and journal written during the civil rights struggle of the 1960s but can access only a comparative handful of papers covering the election of Barack Obama. ~ Jeffrey Zeldman

Insufficient oxygen means insufficient biological energy that can result in anything from mild fatigue to life threatening disease. The link between insufficient oxygen and disease has now been firmly established." -Dr. W. Spencer Way, Journal of the American Association of Physicians. ~ Ronald L. Knaus DO

That IS what journal writing is all about - showing ourselves to God. ~ Frank McCourt

Memory is a few lines snipped from a larger story that we are privileged to tuck away between the pages of our minds. ~ Craig D. Lounsbrough

For the 'Load' album, I was experimenting so much with tone that I had to keep journals on what equipment I was using. For 'Hero of the Day,' I know I used a 1958 Les Paul Standard with a Matchless Chieftain, some Boogie amps and a Vox amp - again, they're all blended. ~ Kirk Hammett

Our thoughts are the epochs in our lives, all else is but as a journal of the winds that blew while we were here. ~ Henry David Thoreau

the chairman of Random House, Alberto Vitale, told a Wall Street Journal reporter about the new online bookselling sensation from the Pacific Northwest. ~ Brad Stone

What happened to me personally is only anecdotal evidence," Harry explained. "It doesn't carry the same weight as a replicated, peer-reviewed journal article about a controlled study with random assignment, many subjects, large effect sizes and strong statistical significance. ~ Eliezer Yudkowsky

Goal; Start some kind of diary or journal or place just for you to keep to keep track of your life and your feelings.
December -2- ~ Demi Lovato

In two days he saw Rupert Murdoch, his son James, and the management of their Wall Street Journal; Arthur Sulzberger Jr. and the top executives at the New York Times; and executives at Time, Fortune, and other Time Inc. magazines. "I would love to help quality journalism," he later said. "We can't depend on bloggers for our news. ~ Walter Isaacson

...the great theme of the private journal in the 20th century is sickness. ~ Alan Pauls

I realized Michael was right. I mean, I am always writing in this journal. And I do compose a lot of poetry, and write a lot of notes and emails and stuff. I mean, I feel like I am always writing. I do it so much, I never even thought about it as a talent. It's just something I do all the time, like breathing. ~ Meg Cabot

Be a collector of good ideas, but don't trust your memory. The best collecting place for all of the ideas and information that comes your way is your journal. ~ Jim Rohn

Books to me are not expanded journal articles, but reading experiences, and the academics who tend to read in order to cite in their writing
rather than read for enjoyment, curiosity, or simply because they like to read
tend to be frustrated when they can't rapidly scan the text and summarize it in one sentence that connects it to some existing discourse in which they have been involved. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb

In a famous hoax, physicist Alan Sokal submitted an article to a leading journal of cultural studies purporting to describe how quantum gravity could produce a "liberatory postmodern science." The article, which parodied the convoluted style of argument in the fashionable academic world of cultural studies, was promptly published by the editors. Sokal announced that his intention was to test the intellectual standards of the discipline by checking whether the journal would publish a piece "liberally salted with nonsense." Sokal, "A Physicist Experiments with Cultural Studies," April 15, 1996, ~ Dani Rodrik

One could say that Hopkins practiced transubstantiation in every poem. By mysterious talent, he changed plain element into reality sublime. He encountered a jumble of weather, birds, trees, branches, waters, blooms, dewdrops, candle flames, prayers, then instressed them and, delighted, wrote in his journal, 'Chance left free toact falls into an order. ~ Margaret R. Ellsberg

The four stages of acceptance:
1. This is worthless nonsense.
2. This is an interesting, but perverse, point of view.
3. This is true, but quite unimportant.
4. I always said so."

(Review of The Truth About Death, in: Journal of Genetics 1963, Vol. 58, p.464) ~ J.B.S. Haldane

A page from a journal of modern experimental physics will be as mysterious to the uninitiated as a Tibetan mandala. Both are records of enquiries into the nature of the universe. ~ Fritjof Capra

An ad for cigars appears in 100,000 newspapers; sales of that brand increase by 3% for a short time thereafter. A new play receives a viciously negative review in a theatrical journal that prints 500 copies; the playwright shoots himself. Who's the better writer? ~ Jason Lutes

Keep a grateful journal. You will be amazed about the heavenly blessings in your life. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

A journal is a repository for all those fragmentary ideas and odd scraps of information that might otherwise be lost and which some day might lead to more "harmonious compositions." ~ Henry David Thoreau

Journal writing gives us insights into who we are, who we were, and who we can become. ~ Sandra Marinella