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Brian Doyle

76quotes

Brian Doyle: A Life of Unyielding Passion and Purpose


Full Name and Common Aliases


Brian Doyle was born on January 23, 1956, in Portland, Oregon, to John and Alice Doyle. He is often referred to as Brian Doyle, although some sources may refer to him by his full name or the title "Father Brian."

Birth and Death Dates


January 23, 1956 - May 27, 2017

Nationality and Profession(s)


Brian Doyle was an American Jesuit priest, writer, and poet. Throughout his life, he held various positions in academia and journalism, including serving as the editor of Image: A Journal of Art, Faith, and Mystery.

Early Life and Background


Growing up in a devout Catholic family, Brian Doyle was instilled with a strong sense of faith and social justice. His parents encouraged his love for writing, which would become a defining characteristic throughout his life. After completing high school, Doyle attended Seattle University before entering the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) at age 19.

Major Accomplishments


Brian Doyle's remarkable career was marked by numerous accomplishments, both as an editor and author. During his tenure as editor of Image, he transformed the publication into a leading voice for Catholic literary thought and cultural critique. His own writing often explored themes of spirituality, social justice, and human connection.

Notable Works or Actions


Doyle's writing is characterized by its lyricism and depth. Some notable works include:

His poetry collections: The Gravedigger's Apprentice (1991) and Lord Have Mercy on Us All (2006)
The novel Mink River, which explores themes of identity, family history, and the human experience
* Essays and articles published in various journals and publications, including The New York Times, Harper's Magazine, and America: The National Catholic Review

Impact and Legacy


Brian Doyle's impact on contemporary literature is undeniable. His commitment to exploring the intersections of faith, culture, and social justice has inspired countless writers and thinkers. Through his writing and editing, he helped create a space for nuanced discussions about complex issues.

Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered


Doyle's passion for storytelling and his unflinching exploration of life's complexities have made him a beloved figure in literary circles. His commitment to using language as a force for good has left an indelible mark on the world of writing and beyond.

Quotes by Brian Doyle

Brian Doyle's insights on:

We are the rocks and reefs of the human sea, tumultuous outcrops, magnets for wrecks. The peaks of mountains you cannot see: that’s us, all right. Dark even on the brightest day. Stony and defiant of the prevailing currents until we are eventually worn down and dissolved. Sometimes soaked and sometimes dry as a bone. Hammered by tides and grimly standing our ground against the pounding. Probably even secretly enjoying the pounding.
"
We are the rocks and reefs of the human sea, tumultuous outcrops, magnets for wrecks. The peaks of mountains you cannot see: that’s us, all right. Dark even on the brightest day. Stony and defiant of the prevailing currents until we are eventually worn down and dissolved. Sometimes soaked and sometimes dry as a bone. Hammered by tides and grimly standing our ground against the pounding. Probably even secretly enjoying the pounding.
Don’t know what to do in a world without mud and moss, brother.
"
Don’t know what to do in a world without mud and moss, brother.
Most of a place is not what human beings think. Maybe we will be better human beings when we begin to see all the other things a place is besides all the things we think it is or wanted it to be.
"
Most of a place is not what human beings think. Maybe we will be better human beings when we begin to see all the other things a place is besides all the things we think it is or wanted it to be.
Is this why we write and read, in the end, in order to find new words for the things we feel but do not have words for?
"
Is this why we write and read, in the end, in order to find new words for the things we feel but do not have words for?
Better to sail alone, and let the battered vessel wander where it will. The only honest course. Assume nothing, trust no one, encumber not and be not encumbered, make your own way, steer your own ship and none other, exactly so.
"
Better to sail alone, and let the battered vessel wander where it will. The only honest course. Assume nothing, trust no one, encumber not and be not encumbered, make your own way, steer your own ship and none other, exactly so.
I am a guy who wanders around looking for nothing in particular, which is to say everything.
"
I am a guy who wanders around looking for nothing in particular, which is to say everything.
Simple, powerful, poignant, the Sign of the Cross is a mnemonic device like the Mass, in which we sit down to table with one another and remember the Last Supper, or a baptism, where we remember John the Baptist’s brawny arm pouring some of the Jordan River over Christ. So we remember the central miracle and paradox of the faith that binds us each to each: that we believe, against all evidence and sense, in life and love and light, in the victory of those things over death and evil and darkness.
"
Simple, powerful, poignant, the Sign of the Cross is a mnemonic device like the Mass, in which we sit down to table with one another and remember the Last Supper, or a baptism, where we remember John the Baptist’s brawny arm pouring some of the Jordan River over Christ. So we remember the central miracle and paradox of the faith that binds us each to each: that we believe, against all evidence and sense, in life and love and light, in the victory of those things over death and evil and darkness.
Rained gently last night, just enough to wash the town clean, and then today a clean crisp fat spring day, the air redolent, the kind of green minty succulent air you’d bottle if you could and snort greedily on bleak, wet January evenings when the streetlights hzzzt on at four in the afternoon and all existence seems hopeless and sad.
"
Rained gently last night, just enough to wash the town clean, and then today a clean crisp fat spring day, the air redolent, the kind of green minty succulent air you’d bottle if you could and snort greedily on bleak, wet January evenings when the streetlights hzzzt on at four in the afternoon and all existence seems hopeless and sad.
Life is a verb, life swerves and lurches no matter how cautious and careful your driving.
"
Life is a verb, life swerves and lurches no matter how cautious and careful your driving.
Everyone thinks that the old days were better, or that they were harder, and the modern times are chaotic and complex, or easier all around, but I think people’s hearts have always been the same, happy and sad, and that hasn’t changed at all. It’s just the shapes of lives that change, not the lives themselves.
"
Everyone thinks that the old days were better, or that they were harder, and the modern times are chaotic and complex, or easier all around, but I think people’s hearts have always been the same, happy and sad, and that hasn’t changed at all. It’s just the shapes of lives that change, not the lives themselves.
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