Sometimes people put up walls, not to keep others out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.
As I grow older, much older, I will experience many things, and I will hit rock bottom again and again. Again and again I will suffer; again and again I will get back on my feet. I will not be defeated. I won't let my spirit be destroyed.
I love feeling the rhythm of other people's lives. It's like traveling.
If you don’t say what you’re thinking, you end up lying when you really need to speak up.
Over and over, we begin again.
The sky was incredibly far away, and beautiful enough to make a person wonder why our hearts are never so free.
Once you've recognized your own limits, you've raised yourself to a higher level of being, since you're closer to the real you.
Truly happy memories always live on, shining. Over time, one by one, they come back to life.
When things get really bad, you take comfort in the placeness of a place.
When was it I realized that, on this truly dark and solitary path we all walk, the only way we can light is our own? Although I was raised with love, I was always lonely. Someday, without fail, everyone will disappear, scattered into the blackness of time.
People aren't overcome by situations or outside forces. Defeat comes from within.
No matter where you are, you're always a bit on your own, always an outsider.
It’s a marvelous thing, the ocean. For some reason when two people sit together looking out at it, they stop caring whether they talk or stay silent. You never get tired of watching it. And no matter how rough the waves get, you’re never bothered by the noise the water makes by the commotion of the surface - it never seems too loud, or too wild.
But I have my life, I’m living it. It’s twisted, exhausting, uncertain, and full of guilt, but nonetheless, there’s something there.
What was important wasn't the fireworks, it was that we were together this evening, together in this place, looking up into the sky at the same time.
It was so gorgeous it almost felt like sadness.
Her eyes were those of someone who's just fallen in love, someone who sees nothing but her lover, someone who has no fear of anything. The eyes of someone who believes that every dream will come true, that reality will move if you just give it a push.
The night glittered brilliantly then.
Although I was raised with love, I was always lonely.
No one can survive childhood without being wounded. Everyone remembers at least one time when their parents rejected them, pushed them away, even though they may have still been in the womb, blind, and unable to speak. That's why, as adults, we all look for someone to become our parents again, and for someone to look after us in times of need. And we search for a person to live with who can provide the companionship we so desperately want.
Love is the kind of thing that's already happening by the time you notice it, that's how it works, and no matter how old you get, that doesn't change. Except that you can break it up into two entirely distinct types -- love where there's an end in sight and love where there isn't.
Someday, without fail, everyone will disappear, scattered into the blackness of time.
In places where a loved one has died, time stops for eternity. If I stand on the very spot, one says to oneself, like a prayer, might I feel the pain he felt? They say that on a visit to an old castle or whatever, the history of the place, the presence of people who walked there many years ago, can be felt in the body. Before, when I heard things like that, I would think, what are they talking about? But i felt I understood it now.
Of course, it’s true that sometimes the pink at sunrise somehow seems brighter than the pink at sunset, and that when you’re feeling down the the landscape seems darker too - you see things through the filter of your own sensibility. But the things themselves, out there, they don’t change. They existed, and that’s all there is to it.
Truly great people emit a light that warms the hearts of those around them. When that light has been put out, a heavy shadow of despair descends.
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