The Buddha's original teaching is essentially a matter of four points -- the Four Noble Truths: 1. Anguish is everywhere. 2. We desire permanent existence of ourselves and for our loved ones, and we desire to prove ourselves independent of others and...
A poor man would like to have some fun, but he cannot find the right place.
A gentle breeze blowing in the right direction is better than a pair of strong oars.
A stone thrown at the right time is better than a stone thrown at the wrong time.
There is never a right time. Except the time we make right.
Right now is always the right time for almost everything.
I'm a civil rights attorney. I'm a victim rights attorney.
I stopped thinking too much about what could happen and relied on my physical and mental strength to play the right shots at the right time.
One single sentence, one frame of film, and abracadabra! the story’s wings would take her to another lost world, another magic realm that was ready to be explored.
The truth remains quiet inside us,floundering like a battered bird,desperately wanting to spread its wings and fly away. -TARA
And off in the far distance, the gold on the wings of the angel atop the bell tower of San Marco flashed in the sun, bathing the entire city in its glistening benediction.
Sometimes in life, dreams aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. When they’re not, though, there’s usually another dream—a better dream —waiting for you in the wings.
Hardly has the universe stretched its wings to span When it gathers to egg once more
It wasn’t every day a girl lost her virginity, not to mention to a delicious, perfect specimen of man. One who had wings, to boot.
My armor is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!
I was caged by him like a bird with clipped wings. I could flutter but I couldn’t escape though I’m not certain I’d want to even if I could.
. . . I suppose one starts out, as a child, being romantic and dreaming of adventure. Poetic. Then reality comes along, and with it, a whole lot of prose.
He was definitely taking his bodyguard duties seriously tonight. He gave off a take-one-step-closer-and-I-will-show-you-Armageddon vibe.
Love is like a buffalo with butterfly wings, and I’m just the humble man in the jetpack trying to shoot it down with a bow and arrow.
She listens to the delicate fluttering of sparrows' wings, tiny messengers. The sound reminds her of life - struggling, beating, rising, flying, and now dissolving into space.
I dream of flight, not to be as the angels are, but to rise above the smallness of it all. The smallnesss that I am. Against the daily death the iconography of wings.
