And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.
We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
It takes courage to push yourself to places you have never been before... to test your limits... to break through barriers. And the day came when the risk it took to stay tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to find peace with exactly who and what I am. To take pride in my thoughts, my appearance, my talents, my flaws and to stop this incessant worrying that I can’t be loved as I am.
Don't let one cloud obliterate the whole sky.
We also write to heighten our own awareness of life... We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection... We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it...to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth. We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely... When I don't write, I feel my world shrinking... I feel I lose my fire and my color.
I walk ahead of myself in perpetual expectancy of miracles.
"We see the world as 'we' are, not as 'it' is; because it is the "I" behind the 'eye' that does the seeing."
Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.
I want to love you wildly. I don’t want words, but inarticulate cries, meaningless, from the bottom of my most primitive being, that flow from my belly like honey. A piercing joy, that leaves me empty, conquered, silenced.
The bed must be a beautiful place, not only because you make love there but because you dream there as well.
Had I not created my whole world, I would certainly have died in other people’s.
Through love, through friendship, a heart lives more than one life.
You cannot save people. You can only love them.
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations.
The secret of joy is the mastery of pain.
I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.
Tranquillity is contagious, peace is contagious. One only thinks of the contagiousness of illness, but there is the contagion of serenity and joy.
Whenever you do something that is not aligned with the yearning or your soul—you create suffering.
No one should be forced to carry the unfulfilled self of another.
I love the abstract, delicate, profound, vague, voluptuously wordless sensation of living ecstatically.
We are never trapped unless we choose to be.
When your beauty struck me, it dissolved me. Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence. I see in you that part of me which is you. I surrender my sincerity because if I love you it means we share the same fantasies, we share the same madness.
I want to do things so wild with you that I don't know how to say them.
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