We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through.
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.
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.
Don't let one cloud obliterate the whole sky.
When one is pretending the entire body revolts.
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.
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.
The only transformer and alchemist that turns everything into gold is love. The only magic against death, aging, ordinary life, is love.
The self is merely the lens through which we see others and the world.
Sometimes we reveal ourselves when we are least like ourselves.
Shame is the lie someone told you about yourself.
You fall in love with people's minds.
Write. Write until it stops hurting.
You live out the confusions until they become clear.
Experience teaches acceptance of the imperfect as life.
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.
"We see the world as 'we' are, not as 'it' is; because it is the "I" behind the 'eye' that does the seeing."
You cannot save people. You can only love them.
With her eyes alone she could give this response, this absolutely erotic response, as if febrile waves were trembling there, pools of madness... something devouring that could lick a man all over like a flame, annihilate him, with a pleasure never known before.
You carry away with you a reflection of me, a part of me. I dreamed you; I wished for your existence. You will always be a part of my life. If I love you, it must be because we shared, at some moment, the same imaginings, the same madness, the same stage.
I don't hear your words: your voice reverberates against my body like another kind of caress, another kind of penetration. I have no power over your voice. It comes straight from you into me. I could stuff my ears and it would find its way into my blood and make it rise.
The secret of joy is the mastery of pain.
I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.
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