#ren

People who repeatedly attack your confidence and self-esteem are quite aware of your potential, even if you are not. ↗

— Wayne Gerard Trotman

#bullying #confidence #potential #put-downs #quotable

It's often only in the lies we refuse to speak that any truth can be heard at all. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#karen-marie-moning #mac #truth #mac

The goblins of the city may hold committees to divide a single potato, but the strong and the cruel still sit on the hill, and drink vodka, and wear black furs, and slurp borscht by the pail, like blood. Children may wear through their socks marching in righteous parades, but Papa never misses his wine with supper. Therefore, it is better to be strong and cruel than to be fair. At least, one eats better that way. And morality is more dependent on the state of one’s stomach than of one’s nation. ↗

— Catherynne M. Valente

#strength #survival-of-the-fittest #communism

we are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. as we were. as we are no longer. as we will one day not be at all. ↗

— Joan Didion

#awareness

For the briefest moment, they came face to face. Their eyes locked. Then he broke the stare, swiveled, sank into a sitting position, chains clanking, with his knees up. She watched him speechlessly as he set a cooler bag between his boots, like he was settling down to a picnic or something. An image of the contents as hospital blood bags, complete with juice straws, flashed through her mind. Unfolding her legs, she made herself as comfortable as she could on the cold outer edge of the sill. An intangible and unnameable charge electrified the space between them, and at first, neither of them said anything. [...] Finally she heard him unzip the bag and watched him pull out a small cylinder. "I thought you might like some crappy ice cream," he said. ↗

— Kelly Creagh

#roof-picnic #varen #contentment

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. ↗

— William Wordsworth

#peace #poetry #serenity #dance

Minds that have withered into psychosis are far more terrifying than any character of fiction. ↗

— Christian Baloga

#bipolar #character #christian-baloga #crazy #emotional

I felt lethal, on the verge of frenzy. My nightly bloodlust overflowed into my days and I had to leave the city. My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage. This was the bone season for me and I needed a vacation. ↗

— Bret Easton Ellis

#bateman #bloodlust #bret #easton #ellis

The danger of motherhood. you relive your early self, through the eyes of your mother. ↗

— Joyce Carol Oates

#motherhood #parenting #motherhood

A mother is a child's first looking glass into the world. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#children #growing #learning #mom #mother