Intelligence is one of the greatest human gifts. But all too often a search for knowledge drives out the search for love. This is something else I’ve discovered for myself very recently. I present it to you as a hypothesis: Intelligence without the ability to give and receive affection leads to…
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Daniel Keyes
Daniel Keyes (August 9, 1927 – June 15, 2014) was an American writer best known for his Hugo award-winning short story and Nebula award-winning novel Flowers for Algernon. Keyes was given the Author Emeritus honor by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America in 2000. 2Biography 3Early life and career Keyes was born in New York City, New York. He attended New York University briefly before joining the United States Maritime Service at 17, working as a ship's purser on oil tankers. Afterward he returned to New York and in 1950 received a bachelor's degree in psychology from Brooklyn College. A month after graduation, Keyes joined publisher Martin Goodman's magazine company, Magazine Management. He eventually became editor of their pulp magazine Marvel Science Stories (cover-dated Nov. 1950 – May 1952) after editor Robert O. Erisman, and began writing for the company's comic-book lines Atlas Comics, the 1950s precursors of Marvel Comics. After Goodman ceased publishing pulps in favor of paperback books and men's adventure magazines, Keyes became an associate editor of Atlas under editor-in-chief and art director Stan Lee. Circa 1952, Keyes was one of several staff writers, officially titled editors, who wrote for such horror and science fiction comics as Journey into Unknown Worlds, for which Keyes wrote two stories with artist Basil Wolverto
There are a lot of people who will give money or materials, but very few who will give time and affection.
I am afraid. Not of life, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if I had never been.
Nowadays every time we see each other, after I leave you I go home with the miserable feeling that I’m slow and dense about everything. I review things I’ve said, and come up with all the bright and witty things I should have said, and I feel like kicking myself because I didn’t mention them when we…
I am afraid. Not of life, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if I had never been.
I don’t know what’s worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to become what you’ve always wanted to be, and feel alone.
That’s the thing about a human life-there’s no control group, no way to ever know how any of us would have turned out if any variables had been changed.
The path I choose through the maze makes me what I am. I am not only a thing, but also a way of being—one of many ways—and knowing the paths I have followed and the ones left to take will help me understand what I am becoming.
I am afraid. Not of life, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if I had never been.
I don’t know what’s worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to become what you’ve always wanted to be, and feel alone.