When I dream, I dream of him. For several nights now he’s come to me, waving from a distant shore as if he’s been waiting patiently for me to arrive. He doesn’t utter a word, but his smile says everything: I’ve missed you.
There is an ancient tribal proverb I once heard in India. It says that before we can see properly we must first shed our tears to clear the way.
Because you don’t notice the light without a bit of shadow. Everything has both dark and light. You have to play with it till you get it exactly right.
Power changes everything till it is difficult to say who are the heroes and who the villains.
I run after her, not really giving chase. I’m running because I can, because I must. Because I want to see how far I can go before I have to stop.
How I’d love to get away from here and be someone else for a while in a place where no one knows or expects certain things from me.
To those who will see, the world waits.
We sit and listen and are enthralled anew, for good stories, it seems, never lose their magic.
What happens if your choice is misguided, You must try to correct it But what if it’s too late? What if you can’t? Then you must find a way to live with it.
You must remember, my dear lady, the most important rule of any successful illusion: First, the people must want to believe in it.
I’m like everyone else in this stupid, bloody, amazing world. I’m flawed. Impossibly so. But hopeful. I’m still me.
These are hard times. The world hurts. We live in fear and forget to walk with hope. But hope has not forgotten you. So ask it to dinner. It’s probably hungry and would appreciate the invitation.
And for a moment, I understand that I have friends on this lonely path; that sometimes your place is not something you find, but something you have when you need it.
In every end, there is also a beginning.
I wish to live for myself. I should never want to be trapped.
Reminds us that greatness lies even in the smallest of moments, in the humblest of hearts, and we shall, each of us, be called to greatness. Whether we shall rise to meet it or let it slip away is the challenge put before us all.
The trouble with morning is that it comes well before noon.
I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.
There’s a lot about discovering who you are and how difficult that is. And it never stops.
In a world like this one, only the random makes sense.