That was how it always was with Colleen: No matter how sad she felt, there was always this little bit of hope - like a speck of glitter caught in your eyelash - that never went away, no matter what.
...my soul always reverts to the Old Testament and to Shakespeare. There at least one feels that it's human beings talking. There people hate, people love, people murder their enemy and curse his descendants through all generations, there people sin.
The Augusteum warns me not to get attached to any obsolete ideas about who I am, what I represent, whom I belong to, or what function I may once have intended to serve.
The Yogic sages say that all the pain of a human life is caused by words, as is all the joy. We create words to define our experience and those words bring attendant emotions that jerk us around like dogs on a leash.
To feel physically comfortable with someone else's body is not a decision you make. It has very little thing to do with how two people think or act or talk or even look. The mysterious magnet is either there, buried somewhere deep behind the sternum,...
Yesterday I might have been a glorious monument to somebody, true enough-but tomorrow I could be a fireworks depository. Even in the Eternal City, says the silent Augusteum, one must always be prepared for riotous and endless waves of transformation.
How do the survivors of terminated relationships ever endure the pain of unfinished business? From that place of meditation, I found the answer - you can finish the business yourself, from withing yourself. It's not only possible, it's essential.
In 1954, Pope Pius XI, of all people, sent some Vatican delegates on a trip to Libya with these written instructions: "Do NOT think that you are going among Infidels. Muslims attain salvation, too. The ways of Providence are infinite.
No. You don't get to call me Izzy, you don't send me letters, you don't follow me into dark corridors and try to save me from rats." "Trust me, we see a rat, it's every man for himself.
This time he was dreaming of a VIP room backstage at the club, filled with champagne and coffee, a gaggle of groupies trying to break down the door so that - in the dream, Simon somehow knew this was their intent - they could tear of his clothes and ...
All I could say was, "I don't know what to do." I remember her taking me by the shoulders and looking me in the eye with a calm smile and saying simply, "Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth.
Not the least of the hardships to which the dying are subject is the visitation of their loved ones. The poor darlings, God bless them, may feel every impulse to condole and console, but their primary sensation is nonetheless one of embarrassment in ...
He's around the twist,' said Azalea. 'Breaking all the windows? He's mad.' 'Ah, no,' said the King. 'It's only madness if you actually do it. If you to break all the windows in the house and drown yourself in a bucket but don't actually do it, well, ...
I need to fuck you till you come saying my name. Then I'm going to take my cock out of your divine cunt and fuck your beautiful mouth with it. And watch your lovely lips wrap around it and suck me dry.
Think like a maverick, Fight like a gladiator, Love with a humble heart and Die for a cause worth dying for... Be a "game changer"....The basic tenets of my life philosophy.
Is it always that way with men, that first burst of love or sex the thing that binds you? Do you always have to harken back to those first weeks when just the way he walked across a room made you want to take off all your clothes?
The most difficult challenge an honest man will ever face is having to choose between duty and love. One creates a man of honorable character―a life worth dying for. The other creates a vulnerable soul that madly yearns for either death or immortal...
Katherine screwed her nose up at the taste of the instant coffee. Grace laughed. "Trust me. You love this stuff. You can't start your day without it." "Well that is just depressing," Katherine murmured, chasing a pea around her plate with a plastic f...
What can I do? Pray? Would God allow such agony? Sure he would, they would say. To test your faith. She laughed. My heart is crumbling, she said. But I will not give my last love to an imaginary being.
Knowledge that is acquired is not like this. Those who have it worry if audiences like it or not. It's a bait for popularity. Disputational knowing wants customers. It has no soul... The only real customer is God. Chew quietly your sweet sugarcane Go...
Love makes temporary saints and poets of us all. We feel the source of life welling up inside us and long to express the joy it brings and share it with the partner of our heart’s awakening.
