At some point, one asks, "Toward what end is my life lived?" A great freedom comes from being able to answer that question. A sleeper can be decoyed out of bed by the sheer beauty of dawn on the open seas. Part of my job, as I see it, is to allow tha...
On Women: "What do you mean?" Martin asked curiously, passing him a glass. "Here, down this and be good." "Because–" Brissenden sipped his toddy and smiled appreciation of it. "Because of the women. They will worry you until you die, as they have a...
…how it would be nice if, for every sea waiting for us, there would be a river, for us. And someone -a father, a lover, someone- able to take us by the hand and find that river -imagine it, invent it- and put us on its stream, with the lightness of...
Brod's life was a slow realization that the world was not for her, and that for whatever reason, she would never be happy and honest at the same time. She felt as if she were brimming, always producing and hoarding more love inside her. But there was...
If we constantly focus only on the stones in our mortal path, we will almost surely miss the beautiful flower or cool stream provided by the loving Father who outlined our journey. Each day can bring more joy than sorrow when our mortal and spiritual...
Wrong Question: How to love? Right Question: Why am I afraid to love? Wrong Question: Why do you love me? Right Question: Do I love myself as much as you do? Wrong Question: Why does love hurt? Right Question: Why do I live in fantasies and expect so...
Looking at the rain through my window, I can’t find an answer to this merciless solitude— The same solitude that sprouts from my eyes, A bittersweet tear which haunts me like a shadow. During evenings like this my life is about sad memories. At t...
I wanted to find something of the beauty of myth that we’ve left behind, carry its shreds before us all, so we could acknowledge it, somehow bring it back to life. I wanted to delve back into that world that cradled us when we were young enough to ...
A little white woman, . . . [a] tiny little white woman I could fit in my pocket.’ . . . ‘And I don’t know why I’m surprised. You don’t even notice it – you never notice. You think it’s normal. Everywhere we go, I’m alone in this… t...
Beauty is a word that fades with wrinkles
Beauty is the promise of happiness.
Beauty of expression is so akin to the voice of the sea.
Beauty is not just physical.
Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.
There is beauty when something works and it works intuitively.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
Paris is beautiful, but nothing beats home.
The good is the beautiful.
Love is a beautiful feeling.
When I am an old man and I can remember nothing else, I will remember this moment. The first time my eyes beheld an angel in the flesh. “I will remember your body and your eyes, your beautiful face and breasts, your curves and this.” He traced hi...
Most true is it that 'beauty is in the eye of the gazer.' My master’s colourless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth, — all energy, decision, will, — were not beautiful, acco...
