Read through the most famous quotes by topic #via
Now, lying on my back in bed, I imagined Buddy saying, ‘Do you know what a poem is, Esther?’ ‘No, what?’ I would say. ‘A piece of dust.’ Then just as he was smiling and starting to look proud, I would say, ‘So are the cadavers you cut up. So are the people you think you’re curing. They’re dust as dust as dust. I reckon a good poem lasts a whole lot longer than a hundred of those people put together.’ And of course Buddy wouldn’t have any answer to that, because what I said was true. People were made of nothing so much as dust, and I couldn’t see that doctoring all that dust was a bit better than writing poems people would remember and repeat to themselves when they were unhappy or sick and couldn’t sleep. ↗
The patterns overhead shifted so that, had she an imagination prone to hysteria, she could easily convince herself something hid in the curtains above her head. She imagined a face in the shadows and folds of fabric, a face with sad, hollow eyes. The sliver of light shining through a crack in the window curtains disappeared. Shadows deepened and swirled and the face became even more uncannily real. ↗
MT [Mother Teresa] was not a friend of the poor. She was a friend of poverty. She said that suffering was a gift from God. She spent her life opposing the only known cure for poverty, which is the empowerment of women and the emancipation of them from a livestock version of compulsory reproduction. ↗
#empowerment-of-women #mother-teresa #poverty #poverty-alleviation #life
I feel my life is so scattered right now. Like it's all these small pieces of paper and someone's turned on the fan. But talking to you makes me feel like the fan's been turned off for a little bit. Like things could actually make sense. You completely unscatter me, and I appreciate that so much. ↗
I needed something--the distraction of another life--to alleviate fear. ↗
#distraction #fear #life #life
Viata fara sens este lipsita de speranta.Viata fara speranta este lipsita de crdinta.Odata ce descoperi modalitatea prin care poti sa te implici,vei gasi si sensul vietii tale,iar in consecinta vei fi umplut de speranta si credinta , ce te vor insoti spre viitorul tau. ↗
What do you want most in life, Miss Willow?" "For my mother to be well." "Imagine you had that." His fingers rested on the nape of her neck. "What do you want for yourself?" "Peace on earth?" "Come, Miss Willow. I want a serious answer from you. Better yet, a selfish one." Though she stood inches from him, she seemed not to notice their proximity. As a grown man, he could control his base urges. He'd done so for years. He would do better by her than his father and brothers. Slowly, he lifted his fingers from the back of her neck. His palm took their place. Head tilted, she considered him. "You'll laugh." "Try me." "A family. Children." "What? Not thousands of pounds at your disposal? A mansion? Jewels to dazzle you? Servants at your beck and call?" She rested the side of her head against the doorway and looked at him from beneath her thick red lashes. "I always thought I'd be married one day with half a dozen children at my knees." Her eyes danced again, and for a moment, the space of a breath, he was caught like a fly in a web. "I was right about the children at least, though I was sure they'd be mine." "Are you sorry?" What soft skin she had, such a tender nape. "That I'm not a wife and mother?" "Mm." He imagined her with a husband, with children. His children. He saw her gravid by his doing, and him cradling an infant in his arms, the one he'd made in her. He could give her what she wanted, and, of course, he could imagine the act of making her so. ↗
