Life & Wisdom Quote by May Sarton

Sarton’s line treats emotion less like a private weather system and more like a moral argument. “True feeling” isn’t a mood; it’s a credential, a stamp of authenticity that can authorize damage, sacrifice, even abandonment. The verb choice does the heavy lifting: to “justify” is legal language, the language of defenses and alibis. Sarton makes sincerity sound like a courtroom passkey, and the chill arrives when you notice what’s missing - any account of who pays.

The phrase “whatever it may cost” opens a blank check. It flatters the speaker’s inner life while leaving consequences vague, as if the only real tragedy is the price tag, not the bodies on the invoice. That’s the subtextual dare: if you hesitate, maybe your feeling wasn’t “true” enough. It’s a romantic ethic with teeth, the kind that can fuel brave acts (leaving a dead marriage, telling a hard truth, committing to art) and also excuse cruelty (I hurt you, but I meant it).

Context matters because Sarton’s work often circles the loneliness and necessity of a life organized around art, desire, and independence - choices that come with social penalties, especially for a woman writing in mid-century literary culture. Read generously, the line defends the costly integrity of living unshackled. Read skeptically, it exposes how “authenticity” can become a glamorous rationale for taking what you want and calling it destiny. That tension is why it sticks: it makes sincerity both a virtue and a risk.