Addiction is a silent shadow that creeps into the corners of the mind, whispering promises of solace and escape, yet binding the heart in chains of dependency, trapping the spirit in a cycle of longing and despair.
Love is like death, it must come to us all, but to each his own unique way and time, sometimes it will be avoided, but never can it be cheated, and never will it be forgotten.
Though parted by the veil of mortality, the bond between the dead and the living endures, woven from threads of memory and love that transcend the boundaries of time and space, uniting hearts across the divide of life and death.
In the stillness of the night, under the enchanting embrace of moonlight, rock pools become mirrors of the heavens, capturing the ethereal dance of stars and tides, each ripple a whisper in the symphony of nature's serenade.
Falling in love, we said; I fell for him. We were falling women. We believed in it, this downward motion: so lovely, like flying, and yet at the same time so dire, so extreme, so unlikely.
And I would see her sweet and palpable before me, a shimmering, precious creature soon to grow old, soon to die, soon to lose these moments that in their intangibility promised to us wrongly... wrongly, an immortality.
Patience is power.
Patience is not an absence of action;
rather it is "timing"
it waits on the right time to act,
for the right principles
and in the right way.
That the death of an animal yielded such pleasure and experience to me that I had only begun to understand it and wished to save the experience of human death for my mature understanding. But it was moral. Because all aesthetic decisions are moral, really.
it's absence of control — and I need all of my skills, all of the control, all of my powers ... and anger doesn't provide any of that — I have no use for it whatsoever.
There is love in me the likes of which you've never seen. There is rage in me, the likes of which should never escape. If I am not satisfied in the one, I will indulge the other.
You say you love rain, but you use an umbrella to walk under it. You say you love sun, but you seek shelter when it is shining. You say you love wind, but when it comes you close your windows. So that's why I'm scared when you say you love me.
I would like to believe this is a story I’m telling. I need to believe it. I must believe it. Those who can believe that such stories are only stories have a better chance.
Sickness may weaken the body, but it strengthens the bonds of empathy and compassion, reminding us of the preciousness of health and the gift of healing.