With heightened senses it remained motionless and looked through bulbous eyes. It could taste fear in the air. Pheromones. Sweat. Food was near, but more importantly, so was its new home.
I wrapped the unyielding woman I loved in my arms & kissed her slowly, hoping that some part of her would sense my absolute devotion." #Ren
We all didn't come into to the world at the same time so it makes sense that we don't leave it at the same time.
The light lulls you into a false sense of security. But if the dark should come suddenly and silently, you’d stand out like black on night.
Every act of will is an act of self-limitation. To desire action is to desire limitation. In that sense, every act is an act of self-sacrifice. When you choose anything, you reject everything else.
We're so young. We can't, we MUST not loose this sense of possibility because in the end, it's all we have.
But, in making the sacrifices that the Government asks us to make, we are not protecting our freedom. We are giving away our freedom in exchange for a false sense of security.
I sensed more than recognized the sound of those skeletal knuckles on the door. I was too young for it to be Death, so it had to be his mother.
If you want to see a man come to his senses, try something like, Do you happen to carry a rubber in your wallet? Did I mention I'm not on the pill?
The sense of mystery must always be, for mystery means being guided by obedience to Someone Who knows more than I do.
But life isn't really about just geting by. Right when you've lulled yourself into a false sense of security, it likes to throw in a plot twist. Keep you on your toes.
We yearn for there to be meaning to our lives, balanced with a sense of inner peace & joy.
Completing the circle is both philosophical and tactical - there is a growing sense of mastery that comes with practice, diligence, and experience.
Like poetry, in times of intense emotion the image returns to me. Like poetry, it stroked my soul and, by turns, lulled and stoked my senses.
In a sense who you are has always been a story that you told to yourself. Now your self is a story that you tell to others.
We never choose which words to use, for as long as they mean what they mean to mean, we don’t care if they make sense or nonsense.
It was like making a blunder at a party; there was nothing to do about it, it was dreadfully mortifying, but it showed a lack of sense to ascribe too much importance to it.
He didnt know what was defeating him, but he sensed it was something he could not cope with, something that was far beyond his power to control or even at this point in time comprehend.
You can’t substitute material things for love or for gentleness or for tenderness or for a sense of comradeship. Money is not a substitute for tenderness, and power is not a substitute for tenderness.
I wrote a zen koan once about love, but it didn’t make any sense. That’s how I knew I had accurately described love.
You are my home; it is in your loving gaze that I find the comfort, acceptance, and the sense of belonging.
