You truly help others working on yourself. Remember that the only power you have is over your own choices. You simply have no power to choose for others unless they allow you to.
Blunt turned to the man in question with a helpless grin, "You have always proven yourself a mystery to me, good fellow!" Falconer lifted one corner of his mouth, "Then I have succeeded, Blunt.
It was that sort of sleep in which you wake every hour and think to yourself that you have not been sleeping at all; you can remember dreams that are like reflections, daytime thinking slightly warped.
Sometimes you fight what you are, and sometimes you give in to it. And some nights you just don’t want to fight yourself anymore, so you pick someone else to fight.
Boy, the solid things you can hold in your hands are never all you've got. They're the least of what belong to you. The qualities inside you, those are what you've really got to defend yourself with.
When you meet someone so different from yourself, in a good way, you don’t even have to kiss to have fireworks go off.
And he had a theory about fear. It was all about regret. If you make what you want out of life and don't bullshit yourself about your choices, then there are no regrets, and a man without regret isn't afraid of anything.
Other people are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects to you something you love or hate about yourself.
Figured that most of life's dilemmas could be solved by asking yourself this one question: " Is it worth it--to me?
I had a dream about you last night... you kept meowing at people and licking yourself it was not unlike you normally.
You thought too hard. Same with travel. You can't work too much at it, or it feels like work. You have to surrender yourself to the chaos. To the accidents.
Risk anything! Care no more for the opinion of others ... Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth." (Journal entry, 14 October 1922)
You can't go by what a girl says, when she's giving you the devil for making a chump of yourself. It's like Shakespeare. Sounds well, but doesn't mean anything.
But grief makes a monster out of us sometimes . . . and sometimes you say and do things to the people you love that you can't forgive yourself for.
Success breeds success on a marathon route. If you can prove to yourself that you are doing well, then invariably you will do even better.
You don't feel yourself falling in love, like it's a journey, a process; on the contrary, it hits you like a sudden ague, a fever, the realisation that your life will never be the same again.
When you cut the cords on the safety net and walk out on the highwire, you become yourself and become all that you can be and all that you were meant to be. But first, you must cut the cords.
And what if I need something?' 'Find it yourself.' Connor tsk-ed. 'Where did all the niceties go?' 'You're not a guest. You're family. Find your own fucking towels.
When you erode the fear of death with the knowledge that you already died [in Christ], you will find yourself moving toward a simple, bold obedience.
Running is just such a monestary-- a retreat, a place to commune with God and yourself, a place for psychological and spiritual renewal.
Ohhhh are you coming?” he asks me. “Oh God Mallory, I can feel you doing it around my cock. I can feel you – that’s it, baby. Fuck yourself on me.
