Strangers are just friends waiting to happen
I've been going a long time now along the way I've learned some things. You have to make the good times yourself take the little times and make them into big times and save the times that are all right for the ones that aren't so good.
May your hand be full for always if only with another hand. May your heart be empty only long enough to give you cause to fill it up again with love. May your soul be lost by you only to be found by God.
We come into the world alone. We go away the same. We're meant to spend the interlude between in closeness or so we tell ourselves. But it's a long way from the morning to the evening.
Cats have it all - admiration, an endless sleep, and company only when they want it.
Be gentle with me, new love. Treat me tenderly. I need the gentle touch, the soft voice, the candlelight after nine. There's been so many who didn't understand so give me all the love I see in your timid eyes but give it gently Please.
Even when you feel you've reached the end or edge of life, hold on. Life itself will ultimately take care of you.
It's nice sometimes to open up the heart a little and let some hurt come in. It proves you're still alive.
No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged, ragged round the edges, but know and understand that love is still the safest place to land.
Do not ask the definition of a friend. He/She is that one without whose company death and dying set in earlier and living is made more pleasurable.
I am not a joiner. Somewhere I once said that people join clubs now for the very reason they once carried them, a need for security. Maybe I'm alone more often than I should be, because I try to find security within myself.
The journey back is always longer than the forward run.
Love is a sweet thing caught a momentand held in a golden eye.
I cannot speculate on what our cluttered mind will save- sleepy Sundays, or a nosebleed after love. I know only the dying heart needs the nourishment of memory to live beyond too many winters.
I chose the shadows; they did not choose me. I stay here securely not just because I feel plain, but because disappearance is by now the easy way. The habit. The worn path that I can trod knowingly and be assured safe passage home.
Extending your hand is extending yourself.
The gifts that one receives for giving are so immeasurable that it is almost an injustice to accept them.
If you love somebody, tell them.
There's no misery in not being loved, only in not loving.
There is no other way to find ourselves but in each others faces.
To understand others you should get behind their eyes and walk down their spines.
People are not born bastards. They have to work at it.
It happens just because we need to want and to be wanted too, when love is here or gone to lie down in the darkness and listen to the warm.
I've come to terms with it, it knows I know.
Everybody has the answers or they'll make them up for you. Just once I'd like to hear a brand-new question.
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