The knowledge that makes us cherish innocence makes innocence unattainable. knowledge
Imagination is not something apart and hermetic, not a way of leaving reality behind it is a way of engaging reality. imagination
Irving Howe (June 11, 1920 - May 5, 1993) was an American literary and social critic and a prominent figure of the Democratic Socialists of America.
Howe was born as Irving Horenstein in The Bronx, New York. He was the son of Jewish immigrants from Bukovina, Nettie (née Goldman) and David Horenstein, who ran a small grocery store that went out of business during the Great Depression.
Howe attended City College (CCNY) and graduated in 1940, alongside Daniel Bell and Irving Kristol. He served in the U.S. Army during World War II. Upon his return, he began writing literary and cultural criticism for the influential Partisan Review and became a frequent essayist for Commentary, Politics, The Nation, The New Republic, and The New York Review of Books. In 1954, Howe helped found the intellectual quarterly Dissent, which he edited until his death in 1993. In the 1950s Howe taught English and Yiddish literature at Brandeis University in Waltham, MA. He used the Howe and Greenberg Treasury of Yiddish Stories as the text for a course on the Yiddish story at a time when few were spreading knowledge or appreciation of these works in American colleges and universities.
The knowledge that makes us cherish innocence makes innocence unattainable. knowledge
Imagination is not something apart and hermetic, not a way of leaving reality behind it is a way of engaging reality. imagination
Motherhood: All love begins and ends there. 22 thoughts from Robert Browning
22 thoughts from Robert Browning
A mother's happiness is like a beacon, lighting up the future but reflected also on the past in the guise of fond memories. 53 more quotes from Honore de Balzac
53 more quotes from Honore de Balzac
With what price we pay for the glory of motherhood. 5 thoughts from Isadora Duncan
5 thoughts from Isadora Duncan
The babe at first feeds upon the mother's bosom, but it is always on her heart. 58 thoughts from Henry Ward Beecher
58 thoughts from Henry Ward Beecher