To show a child what once delighted you, to find the child’s delight added to your own – this is happiness. – J. B. Priestley who was born on this day in 1894.
He also said:
It is good fiction, so largely ignored now, that brings us so much closer to the real facts.
Write as often as possible, not with the idea at once of getting into print, but as if you were learning an instrument.
If we openly declare what is wrong with us, what is our deepest need, then perhaps the death and despair will by degrees disappear.
One of the delights beyond the grasp of youth is that of Not Going. Not to have an invitation for the dance, the party, the picnic, the excursion is to be diminished. To have an invitation and then not to be able to go — oh cursed spite! Now I do not care the rottenest fig whether I receive an invitation or not. After years of illusion, I finally decided I was missing nothing by Not Going. I no longer care whether I am missing anything or not.