It's the lonliest feeling in the world - to find yourself standing up when everyone else is sitting down.
To have everybody look at you and say, "what's the matter with her?". I know what it feels like
walking down an empty street, listening to the sound of your own footsteps. Shutters closed,
blinds drawn, doors locked against you. And you aren't sure whether you're walking towards
something, or if you're just walking away.
-- Inherit the Wind
If you could hear me, I would tell you,
that our fingerprints don't fade
from the lives that we've touched.
-- Remember Me
As soon as he spoke to me, I felt I had known
him all my life, and it frightened me. This was the person
I was meant to love - from that moment to this,
I have never been the same.
I called because I wanted you to know that despite
everything that's happened, and all the miles between
us right now, I still think about the way it was in the beginning.
I believe that once you find "the one" - you'll give them
a hundred and one chances to get it right. I believe that
if you can't be with that person, you never truly move on.
Don't listen to the world, they say we're never gonna make it.
Don't listen to your friends, they would've never let us start.
And don't listen to the voices in your head, listen to your heart.
-- The Maine
I object to violence because when it appears to do good,
the good is only temporary. The evil it does it permanent.
-- Mahatma Ghandi
I've been looking up, looking down, looking side to side
wondering why this world is the way it is and why my momma cries
every night when I'm trying to rest my head. On the floor half-stoned thinking,
"Damn, this shit gets old."
A healthy relationship keeps the doors and windows wide open.
Plenty of air is circulating and no one feels trapped. Relationships thrive
in this relationship. Keep your doors and windows open. If the person is meant
to be in your life, all the open doors and windows in the world will not make them leave.
Trust that truth.
Many scholars of music have asked themselves: How could Bach
survive such grief? How did his lungs push the air in and out of him?
How did his heart not stop? And most of all, how did he continue to write music?
The cantatas. The cello suites. Masses. Concertos. Some of the most beautiful music
the world has ever heard. Do you know how he did this? I will tell you. One note at a time.
(a very good book that should be released this month.
I got an early copy of it )
I have stolen. I have deceived. I have damaged things and people.
And yet nothing grieves me more than to think he now remembers that night.
And he calls me a liar.
There is only one thing I fear now: Love. For I have seen it
and I have felt it and I know that it is love, not death, that undoes us.
It was my soul I thought to barter, yes, and gladly
I'd have given it for it is a small thing and of no value to me.
But it was not my soul that was taken. It was my heart.
I close my eyes, wanting to get us back to how we were.
I'm not really mad at him. I'm mad at myself, that I do these things
and then pretend that I don't. I spend half my life lying about who I am
and what I want. I don't even know who I am most of the time.
Someday, we'll run into each other again, I know it.
Maybe I'll be older and smarter and plain better.
If that happens, that's when I'll deserve you.
But now, at this moment, you can't hook your boat to mine,
because I'm liable to sink us both.
-- Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac
It's funny how you can be face to face with someone, and
yet it feels as though you're on the other side of the world from them.
They haven't actually gone anywhere, but they might as well have.
It's one of the worst feelings to become acquainted with:
to miss someone who is literally right there.
Don't forget that I cannot see myself.
My role is limited to being the one
who looks in the mirror.
-- Jacques Rigaut
The healthy man does not torture others.
Generally, it is the tortured who turn into the torturers.
-- Carl Jung
Making a mistake doesn't matter. What matters is how
determined you are to fix it. But remember, a mistake is like
writing on a foggy window, no matter how hard you try to cover it up,
if you look close enough, it's still there.
I want to hear someone's life story. A stranger's.
And then tell them about me. Those little things that I
keep to myself because I'm afraid of judgement. Terrible,
awful things that I look up in the back of my head. The way
someone or something makes me feel. My opinions. The truth.
Everything and anything I can think of.
And I want them to not hate me afterward.
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