Because you don't notice the light without a bit of shadow. Everything has both dark and light. You have to play with it till you get it exactly right.
I can be whatever. You can be whatever. We can be whatever. Whatever, together.
Why does everyone want to own me?" Pippa mumbles. She's got her head in her hands. "Why do they all want to control my life -- how I look, whom I see, what I do or don't do? Why can't they just let me alone?" "Because you're beautiful," Ann answers, watching the fire lick her palm. "People always think they can own beautiful things.
The world expected girls to pluck and primp and put on heels. Meanwhile, boys dressed in rumpled T-shirts and baggy pants and misplace their combs, and yet you were suppose to fall at their feet? Unacceptable.
Who the heck is Don Quick-oats?
Everyone's dying. A little, every day. Make it count.
Im a techno moron. I need help just to plug in my video camera.
It occurs to me that cricket is not the true sport in London - gossip is.
There is a hideous invention called the Dewey Decimal System. And you have to look up your topic in books and newspapers. Pages upon pages upon pages…” Uncle Will frowned. “Didn’t they teach you how to go about research in that school of yours?” “No. But I can recite ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ while making martinis.” “I weep for the future.” “There’s where the martinis come in.
There is no greater power on this earth than story.
Who but the mad would choose to keep on living? In the end, aren't we all just a little crazy?
Maybe girls need an island to find themselves. Maybe they need a place where no one's is watching them so they can be who they really are
To each his own magic.
We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds.
I thought I was having an existential crisis, but it was nothing. Please don't tailgate: body in trunk.
Beneath the skin, there is fear. Pain. Remorse. Yearning. Desire. A fierce longing for power. All of this. We are joined. It is as if we live in the center of a great storm. Around us the world of the realms revolves like a giant kaleidoscope, images refracted again and again. So many worlds! So much to know.
We create the illusions we need to go on. And one day, when they no longer dazzle or comfort, we tear them down, brick by glittering brick, until we are left with nothing but the bright light of honesty. The light is liberating. Necessary. Terrifying. We stand naked and emptied before it. And when it is too much for our eyes to take, we build a new illusion to shield us from its relentless truth.
I am a jumble of passions, misgivings, and wants. It seems that I am always in a state of wishing and rarely in a state of contentment.
But if we are to remain a great empire, we must have a greater understanding of the hearts and minds of others.
Our mouths and bodies speak for us in a new language as the trees shake loose a rain of petals that stick to our slickness like skins we will wear forever. And just like that, I am changed.
Travel opens your mind as few other things do. It is its own form of hypnotism, and I am forever under its spell
I've heard it said that God is in the details. It's the same with the truth. Leave out the details, the crucial heart, and you can damn someone with the bare bones of it.
But sons are a different matter to a man. More a duty than an indulgence.
People have a habit of inventing fictions they will believe wholeheartedly in order to ignore the truth they cannot accept.
Why does anyone do anything? Belief. A belief that they are right and just in their actions. Abraham was willing to sacrifice his son, Isaac, because he believed that God had commanded it. To kill your son is unthinkable. A crime. But if you are acting in the belief that your God, your supreme deity whom you must obey, has demanded it of you, is it still a crime?
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