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Overcoming panic attacks has left me humbled. It’s taught me how to be brave. It’s left me compassionate to the fears and sufferings of other people. It’s given me the wisdom that my thoughts and feelings are simply subjective responses, and don’t need to be taken as true reflections of reality. But the most important thing I’ve learnt from coping with panic is this: No matter what happens in life, no matter how hard things seem, no matter how painful things are, moments always pass like fluffy clouds in a blue sky, and I will be fine. ↗
Don't be overly proud of your accomplishments and success. Recovery is never complete. You 're engaged in a life-long process. Continue each day to love and serve God with humility ↗
Marcel ise şöyle öldü: Bir gün bütün berduşların Paris'in kent manzarasından silinmelerine karar verilmişti. Sosyal yardım örgütü, aynı zamanda kentin doğru dürüst bir görünümde olmasıyla da ilgilenen ve düşünülebilecek en resmi nitelikteki sosyal yardım örgütünün ilgilileri, polisle birlikte Rue Monge'a geldiler, tek istedikleri, yaşlı adamları yaşama geri döndürmek, dolayısıyla da yaşama hazır olsunlar diye önce yıkayıp paklamaktı. Marcel yerinden kalkıp onlarla birlikte gitti, çok sakin bir adamdı, birkaç kadeh şarap sonra bile hâlâ bilge ve uysal kalabilen bir insandı. Gelmelerini o gün büyük bir olasılıkla hiç umursamamıştı, belki de caddedeki iyi yerine, metronun sıcak havasının mazgallardan dışarı çıktığı yere geri dönebileceğini düşünüyordu. Ama kamunun esenliği için yapılmış olan, içinde çok sayıda duşun bulunduğu yıkanma salonunda sıra Marcel'e de geldi, onu duşun altına soktular ve duş hiç kuşkusuz ne fazla sıcak, ne de fazla soğuktu, ama Marcel yıllardan beri ilk kez çıplaktı ve ilk kez suyun altına girmişti. Daha kimse durumu kavrayıp yardımına koşamadan düştü ve hemen oracıkta öldü. Ne demek istediğimi anlıyor musun! Malina, biraz ne yapacağını şaşırmış gibi bakıyor, oysa ne yapacağını asla şaşırmaz. Bu öyküyü anlatmayabilirdim. Ama duşu bir defa daha hissediyorum, Marcel'in üstündeki neleri yıkamaya hakları yoktu, bunu biliyorum. Eğer bir insan kendi mutluluğun buharları arasında yaşıyorsa, eğer bir insanın "Allah sizden razı olsun"un dışında söyleyecek pek sözü yoksa, o zaman o insanı yıkamaya kalkışmamalı, o insan için iyi olanı o insanın üstünden yıkayıp akıtmamalı, birini olmayan bir yaşam için arındırmaya kalkışmamalı... ↗
We do not measure the value of a person by their outward appearance, rank, or creed, rather by the sum of the agápe in their heart. Your value in the cosmos is greater than precious metals or jewels, humans have to potential to take us all into a period of great enlightenment, or to our ruin. The choice is yours. ↗
Q: Do you have any advice for upcoming writers who want to pen weird stories? A: READ, damn it. Fill your brain to the bursting point with the good stuff, starting with writers that you truly enjoy, and then work your way backward and outward, reading those writers who inspired the writers you love best. That was my path as far as Weird/Horror Fiction, starting with Lovecraft, and then working my way backward/outward on the Weird Fiction spiderweb. And don’t limit your reading. Read it all, especially non-fiction and various news outlets. You’d be surprised by how many of my story ideas were born while listening to NPR, perusing a blog, or paging through Vanity Fair. Once you have your fuel squared away, just write what you love, in whatever style and genre. You’ll never have fun being someone you’re not, so be yourself. When a singer opens their mouth, what comes out is what comes out. Also, don’t be afraid to fail, and don’t be afraid to walk away. Writing isn’t for everyone, and that’s totally fine. One doesn’t need to be a writer to enjoy being a reader and overall fan of genre or wider fiction. ↗
I did say that to deny the existence of evil spirits, or to deny the existence of the devil, is to deny the truth of the New Testament; and that to deny the existence of these imps of darkness is to contradict the words of Jesus Christ. I did say that if we give up the belief in devils we must give up the inspiration of the Old and New Testaments, and we must give up the divinity of Christ. Upon that declaration I stand, because if devils do not exist, then Jesus Christ was mistaken, or we have not in the New Testament a true account of what he said and of what he pretended to do. If the New Testament gives a true account of his words and pretended actions, then he did claim to cast out devils. That was his principal business. That was his certificate of divinity, casting out devils. That authenticated his mission and proved that he was superior to the hosts of darkness. Now, take the devil out of the New Testament, and you also take the veracity of Christ; with that veracity you take the divinity; with that divinity you take the atonement, and when you take the atonement, the great fabric known as Christianity becomes a shapeless ruin. The Christians now claim that Jesus was God. If he was God, of course the devil knew that fact, and yet, according to this account, the devil took the omnipotent God and placed him upon a pinnacle of the temple, and endeavored to induce him to dash himself against the earth… Think of it! The devil – the prince of sharpers – the king of cunning – the master of finesse, trying to bribe God with a grain of sand that belonged to God! Casting out devils was a certificate of divinity. Is there in all the religious literature of the world anything more grossly absurd than this? These devils, according to the Bible, were of various kinds – some could speak and hear, others were deaf and dumb. All could not be cast out in the same way. The deaf and dumb spirits were quite difficult to deal with. St. Mark tells of a gentleman who brought his son to Christ. The boy, it seems, was possessed of a dumb spirit, over which the disciples had no control. “Jesus said unto the spirit: ‘Thou dumb and deaf spirit, I charge thee come out of him, and enter no more into him.’” Whereupon, the deaf spirit (having heard what was said) cried out (being dumb) and immediately vacated the premises. The ease with which Christ controlled this deaf and dumb spirit excited the wonder of his disciples, and they asked him privately why they could not cast that spirit out. To whom he replied: “This kind can come forth by nothing but prayer and fasting.” Is there a Christian in the whole world who would believe such a story if found in any other book? The trouble is, these pious people shut up their reason, and then open their Bible. ↗
I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. ↗
#declarations-of-love #foibles #future #harry-burns #in-love
He was lovable the way a child is lovable, and he was capable of returning love with a childlike purity. If love is nevertheless excluded from his work, it's because he never quite felt that he deserved to receive it. He was a lifelong prisoner on the island of himself. What looked like gentle contours from a distance were in fact sheer cliffs. Sometimes only a little of him was crazy, sometimes nearly all of him, but, as an adult, he was never entirely not crazy. What he'd seen of his id while trying to escape his island prison by way of drugs and alcohol, only to find himself even more imprisoned by addiction, seems never to have ceased to be corrosive of his belief in his lovability. Even after he got clean, even decades after his late-adolescent suicide attempt, even after his slow and heroic construction of a life for himself, he felt undeserving. And this feeling was intertwined, ultimately to the point of indistinguishability, with the thought of suicide, which was the one sure way out of his imprisonment; surer than addiction, surer than fiction, and surer, finally, than love. ↗
#david-foster-wallace #desperation #love #mental-illness #self-confidence
Daily I walk around my small, picturesque town with a thought bubble over my head: Person Going Through A Divorce. When I look at other people, I automatically form thought bubbles over their heads. Happy Couple With Stroller. Innocent Teenage Girl With Her Whole Life Ahead Of Her. Content Grandmother And Grandfather Visiting Town Where Their Grandchildren Live With Intact Parents. Secure Housewife With Big Diamond. Undamaged Group Of Young Men On Skateboards. Good Man With Baby In BabyBjörn Who Loves His Wife. Dogs Who Never Have To Worry. Young Kids Kissing Publicly. Then every so often I see one like me, one of the shambling gaunt women without makeup, looking older than she is: Divorcing Woman Wondering How The Fuck This Happened. ↗
