The word "sex" has no sex. It is androgynous and probably asexual. And even though I have sex (my sex is male), I have no sex, despite knowing willing females.
I make books because I love them as objects; because I want to put the pictures and the words together, because I want to tell a story.
You can’t write with dry ink. Likewise, using another author’s dried words to make your writing more fluid is not only dishonest, but it’s against everything I stand for as a former lifeguard.
The ultimate language of yoga is expressed in doing yoga, a practice that transcends words as we open our lives to living more consciously through the infinite wisdom of the heart.
My mouth is often wounded by my sharp words, so sometimes when I’m out in public, I’ll wear a large Band Aid over my lips.
There is only one page left to write on. I will fill it with words of only one syllable. I love. I have loved. I will love.
And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…" he murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word. "What a stupid lamb," I sighed. "What a sick, masochistic lion.
You say 'I' and you are proud of this word. But greater than this- although you will not believe in it - is your body and its great intelligence, which does not say 'I' but performs 'I'.
We are the same, you and I. Whether samurai or night-hawk, the Suruga Dainagon or member of the Toudouza, it makes no difference. My sword is the proof...." These words, wrung from the very depths of his soul, surprised even Seigen himself. He had no...
At first, all is black and white. Black on white. That's where I'm walking, through pages. These pages. Sometimes it gets so that I have one foot in the pages and the words, and the other in what they speak of.
...every harsh word spoken, every such act or even thought doesn’t just disappear - it hangs around somewhere in totality and some day it boomerangs to haunt us.
The real world reveals itself like surprise gifts on our doorstep, special moments that seem above and beyond the reality of others. These times are full, beautiful and meaningful beyond words, even when wrapped in pain.
I long ago abandoned myself to a blind lust for the written word. Literature is my sandbox. In it I play, build my forts and castles, spend glorious time.
It occurred to me that no words by the tongue of man can express the simplicities of a quiet land, so I returned to the river.
Our minds of infinite possibilities have been plowed, seeded and cultivated by every word, institution and sacred belief we hold dear, to produce a foul harvest of exclusion, apathy, brute domination and death.
She personified her name in everything she did. Even when we would row, her words were deftly chosen and spoken rather like an intricate dance. And I so loved to dance with her.
Be a lady? Forget it. Ladies don't last a day in the real word. No one's a lady anymore. Why do you think we get our claws polished?
You have had me spinning for days, for I am drunk off the words that flow endlessly from your deep red lips that taste of wine.
I’d tell you what happened, but I can’t remember all of it. And I don't wanna put words in my dreams thoughts.
One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.
In other words to live Eternal Life in the full and final sense is to be with God as Christ is with him, and with each other as Christ is with us.
