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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #ok
You can recognize survivors of abuse by their courage. When silence is so very inviting, they step forward and share their truth so others know they aren't alone. ↗
#abuse-survivors #childhood-abuse #childhood-sexual-abuse #effects-of-child-abuse #harrietta-s-happenstance
…and soon enough his head would be swimming with tales of derring-do and high adventure, tales of beautiful maidens kissed, of evildoers shot with pistols or fought with swords, of bags of gold, of diamonds as big as the tip of your thumb, of lost cities and of vast mountains, of steam-trains and clipper ships, of pampas, oceans, deserts, tundra. ↗
I love him. Have loved him through each of his growing stages. But I do not want him to stay the same. I want him to grow. To mature. To become everything God has in mind for him. To be a man. Accept responsibility. Be a leader...And he will. I have every confidence he will. He's on the right track-your brother. Following the leading of his Lord. I want him to change, but I never want him to leave behind the solid base he has already established for who he is deep inside. But I also want him to build and develop and carefully nurture that inner self. And as that happens, there will be changes. ↗
You've come to give me a piece of your mind. You know that phrase is really beautiful. The mind is the most powerful thing in the body. Whatever the mind believes, the body can achieve. So to give someone a piece of it... well thank you. Funny how people are always intent on giving it to the people they dislike when it really should be for the ones they love. ↗
#cecelia-ahernt #if-you-could-see-me-now #love #philosphy-of-people #positive-thinking
Steadily, the room shrank, till the book thief could touch the shelves within a few small steps. She ran the back of her hand along the first shelf, listening to the shuffle of her fingernails gliding across the spinal cord of each book. It sounded like an instrument, or the notes of running feet. She used both hands. She raced them. One shelf against the other. And she laughed. Her voice was sprawled out, high in her throat, and when she eventually stopped and stood in the middle of the room, she spent many minutes looking from the shelves to her fingers and back again. How many books had she touched? How many had she felt? She walked over and did it again, this time much slower, with her hand facing forward, allowing the dough of her palm to feel the small hurdle of each book. It felt like magic, like beauty, as bright lines of light shone down from a chandelier. Several times, she almost pulled a title from its place but didn't dare disturb them. They were too perfect. ↗
