I did it to win love, and to prove myself capable. Not to move mountains. In my opinions, mountains don't move. They only look changed when you look down on them from great height.
I did it to win love, and to prove myself capable. Not to move mountains. In my opinions, mountains don't move. They only look changed when you look down on them from great height.
The flowers were beaten down, their bent-over heads bejeweled with diamond droplets like earring on sad, rich widows
I had just dropped out of medicine in my first year of residency, a few months shy of becoming a licensed M.D. I'd discovered there was something serious, mainly a matter of nerve and perhaps empathy, that stood in my way.
The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof.
I thought: this is how life is, ridiculous beyond comprehension.
There was a roaring in my ears and I lost track of what they were saying. I believe it was the physical manifestation of unbearable grief.
I was a skeleton with flesh and clothes and thoughts.
Water, in Grace, is an all-or-nothing proposition, like happiness. When you have rain you have more than enough, just as when you're happy and in love and content with your life, you can't remember how you ever could have felt cheated by fate.
In my opinion, mountains don't move. They only look changed when you look down on them from a greaty height.
What I want is so simple I almost can't say it: elementary kindness.
I've about decided that's the main thing that separates happy people from the other people: the feeling that you're a practical item, with a use, like a sweater or a socket wrench.
What keeps you going isn't just some fine destination but the road you're on and the fact you know how to drive.
My life is a pitiful, mechanical thing without a past, like a little wind-up car, ready to run in any direction someone points me.
What we suffered in our lives we went through together, but somehow we came out different doors, on different ground levels.
My thoughts kept straying onto random paths...hoping to get lost in a thicket.
When we came home from the movie Hallie cried. Not because of the people who gave up life and limb only to lose Spain to Franco, and not for the ones who came back and were harassed for the rest of their lives for being Reds. The tragedy for Hallie was that there might never be a cause worth risking everything for in our lifetime.
On Sunday morning I put on jeans, changed into a denim dress, then back into jeans again, feeling stupid. I can get into a mood where I annoy myself to no end. At the moment when I got completely fed up and stopped caring, I had on jeans and a white cotton shirt and silver earrings, so that's what I wore. And yes, I'll admit it, nice underwear.
Why is it that only girls stand on the sides of their feet? As if they're afraid to plant themselves?
Perhaps growing up meant we put our knives away and feigned ignorance of the damage.
You can't know somebody, I thought, till you've followed him home.
Prayer had always struck me as more or less a glorified attempt at a business transaction.
You don't ask questions of an attic
Remember how we use to pray to get invited to birthday parties? And they only asked us because we were so grateful we'd do anything, stay late and help the mothers wash the cake pans. I'm still that girl, flattered to death if somebody wants me around.
Your dreams, what you hope for and all that, it's not separate from your life. It grows right up out of it.
At some point in my life I'd honestly hoped love would rescue me from the cold, drafty castle I lived in. But at another point, much earlier I think, I'd quietly begun to hope for nothing at all in the way of love, so as not to be disappointed. It works. It gets to be a habit.
She kept swimming out into life because she hadn't yet found a rock to stand on.
At some time in my life I'd honestly hoped love would rescue me from the cold, drafty castle I lived in. But at another point, much earlier I think, I'd quietly begun to hope for nothing at all in the way of love, so as not to be disappointed.
She would just be catching up when I'd go again, swimming farther out into life because I still hadn't found a rock to stand on.
But children robbed of love will dwell on magic.
The 2-week delay of her letters had caused me to keep a distrustful eye on Hallie, like a star so many light years away it could have exploded long ago while we still watched its false shine.
God, why does a mortal man have children? It is senseless to love anything this much.
The color brown, I realized, is anything but nondescript. It comes in as many hues as there are colors of earth, with is commonly presumed infinite.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories