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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #inspiratio
You can't hide the thunderbolt. When it hits you, everybody can see it. Christ, man, don't be ashamed of it, some men pray for the thunderbolt. You're a very lucky fellow. - Calo ↗
... I'll always have something that not even time can take away. Pain. ...because when I've forgotten everything else, I'll feel that ache... that tightness in my throat... that heaviness in my chest... and know that I loved a woman once and she loved me back. It's proof that I existed and so did she. ↗
I just want to let you know that I love you all. Even those of you that I don't like; that's you Beryl. ↗
Yet there are moments when the walls of the mind grow thin; when nothing is unabsorbed, and I could fancy that we might blow so vast a bubble that the sun might set and rise in it and we might take the blue of midday and the black of midnight and be cast off and escape from here and now. ↗
It's like when you take a trip with someone you don't know very well. Sometimes, you can get very close very quickly, but then after the trip is over, you realize all that was a false sort of closeness. An intimacy based on the trip more than the travelers. ↗
Now that child reminds me of something our sages taught. When a baby comes into the world, it's hands are clenched, right? Like this?" He made a fist. "Why? Because a baby, not knowing any better, wants to grab everything, to say 'The whole world is mine.' "But when an old person dies, how does he do so? With his hands open. Why? Because he has learned the lesson." What lesson? I asked. He stretched open his empty fingers. "We can take nothing with us. ↗
If my life is surrendered to God, all is well. Let me not grab it back, as though it were in peril in His hand but would be safer in mine! ↗
Perhaps it is how we are made; perhaps words of truth reach us best through the heart, and stories and songs are the language of the heart ↗
I write because I am alone and move through the world alone. No one will know what has passed through me... I write because there are stories that people have forgotten to tell, because I am a woman trying to stand up in my life... I write out of hurt and how to make hurt okay; how to make myself strong and come home, and it may be the only real home I'll ever have. ↗
Nothing goes perfectly for us. But... being incomplete is what pushes us onward to the next something... If we were even perfectly satisfied, what meaning would the rest of our lives hold, right? ↗
