Uncategorized Quotes - Page 231

Have you ever considered another type of loneliness; a good and healthy, happy loneliness?

The poor lack much, the greedy everything.

It contained a sad, but too common story of the hard-heartedness of the wealthy, and the misery endured by the children of the highborn. Blood is not water, it is said, but gold with them is dearer far than the ties of nature; to keep and augment their possessions being the aim and end of their lives, the existence, and, more especially, the happiness of their children, appears to them a consideration at once trivial and impertinent, when it would compete with family views and family greatness. To this common and and iniquitous feeling these luckless beings were sacrificed; they had endured the worst, and could be injured no more; but their orphan child was a living victim, less thought of than the progeny of the meanest animal which might serve to augment their possessions.Mrs. Baker felt some complacency on reading this letter; with the common English respect for wealth and rank, she was glad to find that her humble roof had sheltered a man who was the son — she did not exactly know of whom, but of somebody, who had younger sons and elder sons, and possessed, through wealth, the power of behaving frightfully ill to a vast number of persons.

To eliminate the inner turmoil we must focus our attention inward and act with loving kindness to ourselves—and each other.

Don’t know where to begin writing? Just throw up on paper.

Most likely, they were writing the same type of macho bullshit that I wrote, trying to sound tough with their words in case words were all that made it home.

Sometimes it's the princess who kills the dragon and saves the prince.

Perfection is a lie, and lying to others is explicable but lying to oneself is the highest form of deceit.

We speed through the streets past modern buildings and ancient architecture. Gazing through the taxi window Rome becomes a wet painting someone has wiped a hand across.

Discipline is the bridge between a great idea and a completed novel.

To love your weakness, negativity and darkness is to accept half of who you are.

Those who do not complain are never pitied.

Remember that when God calls us to leave behind something, it means He has something better in store for us. Allow Him to replace the old with the new today!

It was a lonely place. A place for the dark-hearted. It's where I deserve to be, Maleficent told herself every time she arrived. For only someone with a heart as dark as mine could do something so evil to a girl with a heart as light as Aurora's.

He felt as if he were being violently emptied out, as if a big magnet were pulling his blood and fluids down into the earth. He was weeping again, unstoppably, his head like the chandelier in his grandparents’ house in Buffalo, the one that was too high for them to reach and that every time he visited had one fewer bulb alight. His head was an old chandelier, going dark.

I'm in love with someone good and kind and gentle, and he's seen the darkness too, but somehow we've become each other's light.

Appetite knows what it craves, without cerebral embellishment. It tends not to waste any time laying hold of its tools. That was the thing I had recognised here: appetite. I recognised it precisely because, in a context like this, it was so unfamiliar. It had forced me to rule out everything else. And there was a second reason for my recognition, which because unprecedented was not recognition at all, but astounding discovery: Martha's face told me. I saw appetite there...

..."Dont marry an orange and expect him to turn into an apple." If you want an orange, great. If not, put him back in the proverbial fruit bowl for someone else to enjoy and move on.

To see in the dark, close your eyes.

Watch an Ant, Watch the bees, feel wind move the leaves. Touch your smile above your chin from the glorious world we all live in.

September suddenly realized something. "But Ell, Orrery begins with O! How can you know so much about it?"The Wyverary soared high, his neck stretching into a long red ribbon, full of words and pies and relief and flying."I'm growing up!" he cried.

To accept a little death is worse than death itself.

It is lack of contentment that leads to corruption.

I leaned down and looked at his handsome face. I wanted to kiss him in a way that would remain soft and true on his lips, all the while help him from escaping the overwhelming sense of sadnes that he felt. I pressed forward and kissed him, tasting the saltiness of fish against his lips, and the disappointment that he held so very deeply inside. I kissed him long and wide, yet limp and yielding, pulling myself away from reality to only drown in the fantasy of our love. I touched his mouth in such a loving way, that not even his incapability to reach into my soul, could tear us away from exchanging such romance. He immediately gave into the kiss, his sadness slowly giving way to the moment that we so intimately shared. It amazed me what a merman could do, even when flowing tears streamed down his face. Through the bridge of kissing, I had healed him, and he had healed me in return.

Faith is evidence unseen and never seen, trust is gained from evidence seen and understood.

Last words of wisdom. Whoever you were as a child, she's your future.

Alexei was a dream of something more... He was a reminder that I could be so much more...

Iron can only be destroyed by rust, and rust is a slow process which is caused by the hydrogen ion from water in the environment. Coat yourself against negative thoughts and be careful what you feed your mind because your mind is your greatest asset, make sure you are not using it against yourself.

There are those that wonder which is worse: Not being able to reach out or not having anyone to reach for. There are some that ponder which is the greater ache: Not being able to tell or not having anyone that cares enough to ask. Perhaps it’s not one person that is to blame, but both.

Books must follow sciences, and not sciences b

There is an awkward silence that overcomes you when cross paths with the person that kisses your heart the second that you meet them. It balances on the edge of unknown but always desired.

Her gaze travels back to the lie twisted in a tempest of mud and blood. She witnesses the culmination of her recklessness through a curved lens. Absorbed in life uncoiling, unaware of the world beyond this ridge. His light hair, darkened by rain. His stiff shoulders, full of pain. The vision poisoned with truth. With rust-stained hues.

If a guy can't even handle my words, I don't think he can handle me as a person.

And that’s when things get messy. When people begin moving beyond charity and toward justice and solidarity with the poor and oppressed, as Jesus did, they get in trouble. Once we are actually friends with the folks in struggle, we start to ask why people are poor, which is never as popular as giving to charity. One of my friends has a shirt marked with the words of late Catholic bishop Dom Helder Camara: “When I fed the hungry, they called me a saint. When I asked why people are hungry, they called me a communist.” Charity wins awards and applause but joining the poor gets you killed. People do not get crucified for living out of love that disrupts the social order that calls forth a new world. People are not crucified for helping poor people. People are crucified for joining them.

Shine brightly your light.

We eat junk because it's cheap and it lights up the pleasure centers of our brain. And we do drugs because it's an effective way to feel good or escape something.

Forgiving ourselves and learning from our inevitable mistakes transforms failure from a stumbling block into a stepping stone.

I remember loving pencils. I was fond of paper. I loved the small of textbooks. I loved the way the light from a desk lamp was bright on a page. I loved the smell of fresh-cut grass. It was a thing everybody loved, but there was no shame in being that much like everybody else, in sharing that.

Am I higher or lower than she? It was always the vital question for Anna: who was superior, and how she could position herself so that she would be perceived as superior?

The “growing” we attribute to becoming more mature, could be more accurately described as “shrinking,” as we cut away the nonsense that emotionally weighs us down.

If you could see your perfect image in the mirror it would remove all your fear.

And somewhat as in blind night, on a mild sea, a sailor may be made aware of an iceberg, fanged and mortal, bearing invisibly near, by the unwarned charm of its breath, nothingness now revealed itself: that permanent night upon which the stars in their expiring generations are less than the glinting of gnats, and nebulae, more trivial than winter breath; that darkness in which eternity lies bent and pale, a dead snake in a jar, and infinity is the sparkling of a wren blown out to sea; that inconceivable chasm of invulnerable silence in which cataclysms of galaxies rave mute as amber.

This stuff of a past not worthily lived is also medicine.

You can only arrive at mastery by practicing the techniques you have learned, facing challenges and apprehending them, using to the fullest the tools you have been taught, until they shatter in your hands and you are left in the midst of wreckage absolute... I cannot create masters. I have never known how to create masters. Go, then, and fail... You have been shaped into something that may emerge from the wreckage, determined to remake your Art. I cannot create masters, but if you had not been taught, your chances would be less. The higher road begins after the Art seems to fail you; though the reality will be that it was you who failed your Art.

Many writers make the mistake of making their readers appear like Lazarus, without any iota of care, throwing down books to readers to crunch as if they are dogs.

Everything is temporary; Emotions, thoughts, people and scenery. Do not become attached, just flow with it.

Tea drinking is a liturgy of comfort, and we partake of it everywhere in the world. It’s a ceremony of simplicity, nourishment for both the nomads in foreign teahouses and homebodies in their beds.

To be a successful general one must be prayful, faithful and work hard

Writers write to influence their readers, their preachers, their auditors, but always, at bottom, to be more themselves.

There were mountains; there were valleys; there were streams. She climbed the mountains; roamed the valleys; sat on the banks of streams.....when, from the mountain-top, she beheld, far off, across the Sea of Marmara the plains of Greece, and made out (her eyes were admirable) the Acropolis with a white streak or two which must, she thought, be the Parthenon, her soul expanded with her eyeballs, and she prayed she might share the majesty of the hills, know the serenity of the plains, etc. etc., as all such believers do.

This sometimes happened: from time to time, Dantès, driven out of solitude into the world, felt an imperative need for solitude. And what solitude is more vast and more poetic than that of a ship sailing alone on the sea, in the darkness of night and the silence of infinity, under the eye of the Lord?

Prayer is not first and foremost talking to God, it's first and foremost listening to God.

If you can't turn off your thoughts, who cares how soft your pillow is?"- David King

Soon the grizzly was joined by a brown bear, a sun bear, and a beaver suffering from an identity crisis of magnificent proportion

Worry:Interest paid on trouble before it falls due.

I am not, anymore, a Christian, but I am lifted and opened by any space with prayer inside it. I didn’t know why I was going, today, to stand in the long cool darkness of St. John of the Divine, but my body knew, as bodies do, what it wanted. I entered the oddly small door of the huge space, and walked without hesitating to the altar I hadn’t consciously remembered, a national memorial for those who died of AIDS, marked by banners and placards. My heart melted, all at once, and I understood why I was there. Because the black current the masseuse had touched wanted, needed, to keep flowing. I’d needed to know I could go on, but I’d also been needing to collapse. Which is what I did, some timeless tear span of minutes sitting on the naked gray stone. A woman gave me the kind of paper napkins you get with an ice cream cone. It seemed to me the most genuine of gifts, made to a stranger: the recognition of how grief moves in the body, leaving us unable to breathe, helpless, except for each other.

You are no longer quite certain which side of the fence is a dream.

To give up on a person you care for who is trying and failing is a bad thing, but to cut ties with an individual who is giving zero effort, yet doing a number on your heart makes sense.

A rock, I thought crazily. He'll pick up a rock. He'll break open my skull, my brain leaking onto the sand. He'll tighten his hands around my throat until my wind-pipe collapses. The stupid things I thought of: Sasha and her briny, childish mouth. How the un had looked in the tops of the trees lining my childhood driveway. Whether Suzanne knew I thought of her. How the mother must have begged, at the end.

SHOCK ABSORBERSVeterans scream in their dreams, reliving nightmares so that we can sleep peacefully