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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #emo
On calm days, you always think you've conquered them. You think that in the end you've finally done them in. That you've got rid of them for good, now and forever. But that seldom happens. Most of the time, the demons are still there, lurking somewhere in the shadows. Tirelessly waiting for the moment when our guard drops. And when love goes away... ↗
#love
Sometimes I think of you and I feel giddy. Memory makes me lightheaded, drunk on champagne. All the things we did. And if anyone has said this was the price I would have agreed to pay it. That surprises me; that with the hurt and the mess comes a shift of recognition. It was worth it. Love is worth it. ↗
She smiles and snuggles into me as we wait for our table. I inhale her scent. Vanilla and something else. Something different. Smokey almost. Sexy. It drives me crazy with need and I have to move away while I can. ↗
We have traditionally thought of knowing in terms of subject and object and have struggled to attain objectivity by detaching our subjectivity. It can't be done, and one of the achievements of postmodernity is to demonstrate that. What we are called to, and what in the resurrection we are equipped for, is a knowing in which we are involved as subjects but as self-giving, not as self-seeking, subjects: in other words, a knowing that is a form of love. ↗
في المرَّةِ الأولى عندما متنا لَمْ نَجِد سريراً يُلائم أجسادنا المُكتظَّة بأشياءٍ جميلة وبقينا بلا نومٍ لأيامٍ نُخفِّف حمولة داخلنا من رداءةِ ما عَلِق... طائرات ورقية رسمناها في صيف 2008 بوسترات أفلام رخيصة كانت نتيجة خوفنا من أن نفشل في الإنجاب قمصان زاهية نرتديها حينما تقهرنا الرغبة، نرتديها بدافع الضحك والملل والعادة؛ رسائل بريدية تحمل أُغنية، أخبار قديمة، قصائد نُمرِّرها عبر أيقونة سريعة، محادثة مرئية تُعيد لنا ملامحنا القديمة حزن بنفسجيّ كأخرِ وردة بيننا ذبحة صدريّة انغمست في أصابعنا فتوقّفنا عن الكتابة ؛ المرّة الأولى كانت كافيةً جداً لإعادةِ الاختيار وأنْ ننام ونوافذنا مفتوحة ليجِد الحبَّ مُتَّسعاً. ↗
Like most humanoids, I am burdened with what the Buddhists call the "monkey mind"--the thoughts that swing from limb to limb, stopping only to scratch themselves, spit and howl. From the distant past to the unknowable future, my mind swings wildly through time, touching on dozens of ideas a minute, unharnessed and undisciplined. This in itself is not necessarily a problem; the problem is the emotional attachment that goes along with the thinking. Happy thoughts make me happy, but-whoop!-how quickly I swing again into obsessive worry, blowing the mood; and then it's all over again; and then my mind decides it might be a good time to start feeling sorry for itself, and loneliness follows promptly. You are, after all, what you think. Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions. ↗
#love
In any case, it's the cowardice of people like you who give dictators the chance to install themselves! ↗
Even though its common knowledge these days, it never ceases to amaze me that all the richness of our mental life - all our feelings, our emotions, our thoughts, our ambitions, our love life, our religious sentiments and even what each of us regards us his own intimate private self - is simply the activity of these little specks of jelly in your head, in your brain. There is nothing else. ↗
