My survival was up to me. I had nothing and I had no one. What I did have, I told myself, was my mind, my imagination, my memory, my feelings, my spirit. These were important and powerful things.
To tell you the truth, I used to consider it a disgrace to be found ignorant by other people. But now, I find that I am not ashamed of knowing less than others, and I'm less inclined to force myself to read books. In short, I have grown old and decre...
People are certainly entiteled to think that I'm wrong, and they are entiteled to full respect for their opinions. But before I can live with other folks I've got to live with myself. The only thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's c...
They're certainly entitled to think that, and they're entitled to full respect for their opinions... but before I can live with other folks I've got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience.
...then Bony Lizzie walked right past me, knelt by General Stanton, and cut off his thumb bones. I had to remind myself that his cries of pain were just the after-effects of his body since his soul was long gone.
Ah well that I can't tell you." Diana ducked her head so that the brim of her bonnet covered her face. "Some things must remain a mystery and for now I think I'll keep my opinion of you and your compliments to myself.
If I ever stop challenging myself, then I am getting lazy and comfortable and I am no longer growing. I hope to use life's challenges as stepping stones to ever greater things.
Adrian Mole's diary Easter Poor Jesus, it must have been dead awful for him. I wouldn't have the guts to do it myself.
I hide myself behind, a cloud of smoke; the smoke screen varies, dependent on the variable. The variable consists of: stress, anguish, boredom, madness, anger, depression, apathy, negativity, sex, violence & a little chunk of chaos.
I had thought so once That it was I who saw in your eyes The raindrops pinging on the windows; Hearing only with ears The stars and the rain; Now that I truly open my eyes and ears I realize that I am myself the stars and the rain.
You know how I get angry sometimes? That's because it's the only way I can still feel. And I need to test myself, to make sure I'm really here.
I begin to cry as my walls of my resolve break down. I don't know how long I can hold on. The pain is horrid and I curl into myself wrestling with a wish to die and a wish to live. Both have their perks. Only one will release me from this agony.
Turning away, I stared at the long road winding off ahead of me. I sighed. This trip might take awhile. "Then start walking, Rose," I muttered to myself. I set off, off to kill the man I loved.
The skinnier and more toned I got, the fatter I felt. The more in shape I got, the more out of shape I felt like I was. And the more I made myself look good to the masses, the less attractive I felt like I was.
Robinson Crusoe, the first capitalist hero, is a self-made man who accepts objective reality and then fashions it to his needs through the work ethic, common sense, resilience, technology, and, if need be, racism and imperialism.
This very heart which is mine will forever remain indefinable to me. Between the certainty I have of my existence and the content I try to give to that assurance, the gap will never be filled. Forever I shall be a stranger to myself.
I am not enough in myself; I can barely make it through buying milk and school supplies. Thank goodness there is a Guardian to come before me and throw off the dark.
And if I ever see you or your fake ass Chanel earrings around here again, I will shove my very real, very pointy Jimmy Choos up your prissy little ass. Do I make myself clear?
I finally felt myself lifted definitively away on the winds of adventure toward worlds I envisaged would be stranger than they were, into situations I imagined would be much more normal than they turned out to be.
And?” I crossed my arms over my chest. I almost tapped my foot waiting for him to answer, but caught myself and held my foot still. That would have been weird—way too much like my mother. ~Milayna
I'm planning, you see, to try to confine myself to the truth. That's hard for an old, inveterate fantasy martyr and liar who has never hesitated to give truth the form he felt the occasion demanded.
