A grieving son was given the opportunity to write parting words on a card at his mother's funeral. He quoted the verse, "And morning came and Jesus was standing on the shore.
Son, are you happy? I don't mean to pry, but do you dream of Heaven? Have you ever wanted to die?
His son's transformation cannot be stopped, or hastened, or adjusted; the man he will become is already present, like a form emerging from a slab of stone. All that remains is to watch it happen.
l'homme se trouve devant l'irrationnel. Il sent en lui son désir de bonheur et de raison. L'absurde naît de cette confrontation entre l'appel humain et le silence déraisonnable du monde.
In the context of Lawrence's rejection of the Freudian notion of incest and the close identification between author and character, Sons and Lovers becomes an exercise in deliberate ambiguity.
They're the perfect loving fam'ly, so adoring... And I love them ev'ry day of ev'ry week. So my son's a little shit, my husband's boring, And my daughter, though a genius, is a freak.
Si piensas, entenderás que la culpa, los errores, las decepciones y las desgracias son privilegios de una vida consciente. ¡La muerte no tiene esos privilegios!
As my father always used to tell me, 'You see, son, there's always someone in the world worse off than you.' And I always used to think, 'So?
What the mud had been doing with itself, or where it came from, who could say? But it seemed to collect in a moment, as a crowd will, and in five minutes to have splashed all the sons and daughters of Adam.
Pero el sufrimiento pasa. Si la vida, que es todo, pasa, por qué no han de pasar el amor y el dolor y todas las demás cosas, que no son más que partes de la vida.
She walks in the loveliness she made, Between the apple-blossom and the water-- She walks among the patterned pied brocade, Each flower her son, and every tree her daughter.
To the mind that could dream and shape our beaconed universe, what is injustice to us may be unfathomable tenderness, and our horror only loveliness misunderstood.
But some people, and especially very young people, don’t think anything’s worth believing unless it’s hard to believe.
My son, your ineptitude is so vast, your incompetence so profound, that I am certain you are inhabited by greater power than I have ever known.
Hadoop! I love the sound of it. Kat Potente, you and I will have a son, and we will name him Hadoop, and he will be a great warrior, a king!
Love, my child, is a thing that every mother learns; it is not born with a baby, but made; and for eleven years, I have learned to love you as my son.
He offered me a ride up from the abyss and I took it. But a ride with the devil is never free. And accepting that ride can only lead to hell.
Sometimes you gotta let go. It's hard to walk away from something you love, really hard. But there are times when it's the only sensible thing to do.
I don't anxiously take in what people say about other people and judge them solely on that basis. I measure a person by how they treat me and what I see in their character.
All I daresay at this point is pray on it and pray hard. Then wait and listen for God's answer. I've learned in my years of living not to be impatient for answers when I pray. They don't come lickity-split.
Dreams are composed of many things, my son. Of images and hopes, of fears and memories. Memories of the past, and memories of the future...
