A brick could be used to prop up a wobbly table—or an unstable relationship. I wish I’d have thought of that before I got divorced.
Not scared. But excited in that jiggering-on-too-much-hot-sauce kind of way that it's time to step out of my old framework, raw and amorphous, to become something I've never thought of before.
The stranger thought it might be God himself had forgotten much from our pasts, events far distant, events of the same day. And if a thing is not in God’s mind, then what chance of it remaining in those of mortal men?
So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there's always madness. Madness is the emergency exit.
If you would listen, sir, in the sense of being aware of your conflicts and contradictions without forcing them into any particular pattern of thought, perhaps they might altogether cease.
A blanket could be used to say I’m sorry without using words, gestures, body language, facial expressions, or telepathy. I’ve always thought it was better to show than tell anyway, so I hope you can forgive me.
Our exclusive dependence on rational thought and language has obscured our natural ability to sense the flow of energy.
Throw out old clothes and shoes, and train your brain to get rid of old thoughts and ideas.
Hold on to the thought that no emotion lasts forever, no matter how wonderful or how terrible the emotion may be. The tears may last a little longer than you would like, but it will get better. I promise.
The actual lifespan of a thought is very short…unless you believe it, trust it, or take direction from it.. Then it can last a lifetime. Be choosy. Pick the ones with which to do this.
The May sunshine makes both the trolls and the elves disappear, he thought. They burst like soap bubbles. Only human beings remain, for a little while. We are a brief song beneath the sky, laughter in the wind that ends in a sigh. Then we too are gon...
That night as I lay in bed, I thought of several things I could have said and mourned the fact that my wit usually bloomed late, peaking when it no longer mattered, during the solitary hours close to midnight.
She thought about her cousins in Oklahoma, which was odd, since she'd never spent much time with them. She didn't even know them very well. Now she was sorry about that.
I know," she said, guessing my thoughts. "I know exactly how you feel." "Does it get easier?" I asked. Unlike Sydney, Olena had an answer. "Yes. But you'll never be the same.
It was just me and him, there in that place where tragedy had happened, where I thought my life had ended. But somehow, he made it seem like a home again. Somehow, he gave it back to me.
But why, she thought wryly, did a man seem more attractive as he became less available? How humbling to think one had so much in common with a cow stretching its neck through a gate for better grass.
No sooner had the thought occurred to him than he found himself staring down the barrel of a single-shot caplock pistol, and halted in his tracks. It was not a particularly accurate weapon if he remembered correctly, not that it would matter at point...
She'd stood by that creed. No softness, because the world wasn't soft; lots of laughter, because if you were in on the joke, the joke couldn't be on you; And no wanting what you couldn't take, because the world never gave. Or so she'd thought.
Thoughts race, as if, in a mind devoid of memory, each idea has too much space to grow and move, to collide with others in a shower of sparks before spinning off into its own distance.
They were real people who entertained and argued and existed entirely independently from him, although he had set the thing in motion. They had different thoughts and beliefs. ~ on children growing up.
Can I love someone...and still think/fly? Love is flying, sown, floating. Thought is solitary flight, beating wings.
