If there's one thing I've still got, it's my memory. Which is too bad. Maybe if I forgot things once in a while, we'd all be a little bit happier.
To forget is the secret of eternal youth. One grows old only through memory. There's much too little forgetting.
Too many people were obsessed with their heads and were alienated from their bodies, Perls believed, adding: “We have to lose our minds and come to our senses.
He relaxed his hands, lifted one and tucked a strand of wispy blonde hair behind her ear. She didn’t move; she only looked at him. He wondered if she felt it too.
I touched his hand, carefully. Not too intimate, but not some half-assed there-there pat, either. Would he understand? Usually the thought process for a seventeen-year-old boy went girl touching me>omg>boner.
But women have lust, too. Why should they be relegated to the position of custodian of emotions, watcher of the infants, feeder of the soul, body and pride of man?
Public ‘career feminists’ have been more concerned with getting more women into ‘boardrooms’, when the problem is that there are altogether too many boardrooms, and none of them are on fire.
When one door closes another opens but all too often there is a long hallway in between.
How do you walk into someone's life again after twenty-eight years? How do you pick up, when you were too young to know where you left off.
You're sadly fucked up. And really homo, too." Jared scowled. "Bisexual, fuck you very much, and unless I yank your dong it's none of your business anyway.
You have a mother?" His mouth quirked with humor. "Yep, and a father too! Every kid normally has one of each to begin with. He was teasing me in an affectionate way...
Where would the end be? Will the idea—the definition—of perfection stay the same? No. Perfection is too fickle. It’s in our nature to never be satisfied. We always think we can do more.
(Da) "Sorry, Son, what was that? I was too busy ignoring you." (Later) "Sorry, Son, I missed that," Ma said. "Ignoring you can be a full-time job.
The world yearns. This is its sure gravity: the attraction of bodies. Earth for molten star. Moon for earth. A hand for the orb of a breast. This is its movement too: the motion of desire, of a longing toward.
Most witches don’t believe in gods. They know that the gods exist, of course. They even deal with them occasionally. But they don’t believe in them. They know them too well. It would be like believing in the postman.
Durbin's sunglasses were gone, and his gray eyes sparkled up at her. He winked. "Take care of yourself, Dr. Venkman." Lena bit back a grin. "You too, Dana Barrett.
…Not that it was unjust; not that the scales were forced out of balance. Where there had been good, it showed as clearly. Kindnesses, accomplishments, all those were present, too.
Anyone can love a thing . That's as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something . To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.
Forgive me that I felt forsaken, That grief and angst was all I knew. Forgive me that I kept mistaking Too many other men for you.
...tell them that we have some good in us, too. And the only thing worth living for is the good. That’s why we’ve got to make sure we pass it on.
It didn’t take much to turn a man solitary-being the new guy too often, being controversial now and then, a couple of unsuccessful attempts at a lasting relationship with a woman…
