It takes courage to push yourself to places you have never been before... to test your limits... to break through barriers. And the day came when the risk it took to stay tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through.
Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.
Don't let one cloud obliterate the whole sky.
Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.
My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. To take pride in my thoughts, my appearance, my talents, my flaws and to stop this incessant worrying that I can’t be loved as I am.
The self is merely the lens through which we see others and the world.
When one is pretending the entire body revolts.
The only transformer and alchemist that turns everything into gold is love. The only magic against death, aging, ordinary life, is love.
Shame is the lie someone told you about yourself.
Experience teaches acceptance of the imperfect as life.
Sometimes we reveal ourselves when we are least like ourselves.
You fall in love with people's minds.
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations.
You live out the confusions until they become clear.
Write. Write until it stops hurting.
"We see the world as 'we' are, not as 'it' is; because it is the "I" behind the 'eye' that does the seeing."
You cannot save people. You can only love them.
Big Business and Politics are twins, they are the monsters who kill everything, corrupt everything.
With her eyes alone she could give this response, this absolutely erotic response, as if febrile waves were trembling there, pools of madness... something devouring that could lick a man all over like a flame, annihilate him, with a pleasure never known before.
I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.
I want to love you wildly. I don’t want words, but inarticulate cries, meaningless, from the bottom of my most primitive being, that flow from my belly like honey. A piercing joy, that leaves me empty, conquered, silenced.
What everyone forgets is that passion is not merely a heightened sensual fusion but a way of life which produces, as in the mystics, an ecstatic awareness of the whole of life.
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