"life-lessons"タグの名言

I can hear the moths crackling and burning on the bulb, I see myself as one of them, flitting around this porch light. I can imagine me bewitched by the wink and sparkle, but I couldn't imagine myself taking up camp here, forever. I am suddenly abundantly aware that this is not even summer yet. This is just a porch with a jerrybuilt swing and creaky planked floors, a frayed recliner, and splays of gray hairs just (now) taking root. I remember that first summer when we strung sprinklers like toy lanterns...

You can keep moving your blowup mattress around in the night where the shadows keep you pretty, and cover your face, so that no one can see that you have a home in me that you won't admit you'll never and always be: the beach bum of my heart.

It takes a lot for me to close a door, but when I do, I slam it.

Sometimes it's the distance between us that keeps us close.

Life is either about accepting what exists or creating what is desired.

Life is an endless dictionary

Develop the habit of letting small bad things happen. If you don't, you'll never find time for the life-changing big things.

In short, she self-medicated with books. (By the way, as the author of this novel, and one who has herself always self-medicated with books, I cannot rightfully attest or deny whether this is a better way of dealing with 'real life' than any other. In fact, as a reader (all writers are just readers one step to the side), I'm not actually sure I believe in this 'real life'. I know it is a terrible betrayal to say this, but come on, aren't books - whisper it - quite a lot better in real life? In books, baddies get blown up or chopped up or sent to prison. In real life, they're your boss or your ex. In books, you get to know what happened. In real life, sometimes you don't get to know what happened ever. They're not even sure they've found Amelia Earhart. So. Books are absolutely the thing in my opinion, or as the old saying goes: whatever gets you through the night (which I should say is also books. Books get you through the night).)

Every ending is always a beginning. Without endings, there would be no beginnings. I don't know about you, but you can't begin to live without knowing how to end... well.

A good writer never tells your secrets, they tell their own. They sacrifice themselves and surrender you.

I slept like a rock Coming through my window Woke up with new light

To be kind is to be alive.

we expect people to stay true to their words. we expect people to stay as they are. but change is the only constant in life. and people change as the seasons do.

Action and malice that contradicts the conscience will result in irreparable damage and pain that could linger for years.

I came to realize the what matters the most is how we live and love during our years on earth. It matters not how much wealth we accumulate for the sake of wealth, but we can think of wealth as an enabler to spend quality time with our beloved ones

Things always show up when they don't arrive.

He helped me clean out my head in time for floweret sunshine, while I raked dead leaves from underneath the bed of my nails that were waiting to be organized in diaries. As the 'Forbidding Numb' piled up, he laundered my abandoned hope clean. All that I could smell on my hands were the roots of the root words I had diluted with extra letters and slushiness. There isn't a corner that we missed; and, in no time at all, I will forget the wretchedness of this winter. Soon, I will only smell peonies and calla lilies, fresh cotton sheets, and maybe—just maybe— the paperless books that I have written being pressed like petals; yet, no longer incinerators burning perished wood that already pushed up daisies right when autumn left its leaves behind me.

He taught me what true love is: helping each other breathe a little easier— smooth and steady— instead of dying a little every day, choking on being loved as someone's vice.

The current's run is too wild, and we created it. A mermaid and mariner have so much romanticism, but too different of backgrounds. One breathes on grounded land, and one breathes above and below—fluidly. This is how she always gets stuck in their nets. They both try for the sake of fascination, but unlike the mermaid's lungs, fascination runs dry. So, they wave at the shoreline and go back to being whoever they were: half humans without each other.

I'll only ask you once to hold my hand in this life. Otherwise, I already know it does just fine holding my other one.