Your problem is in thinking the sky’s the limit. Why set limits?
Life is mental; it’s all about attitude. The majority of it is lived in your head.
Comparisons are like rigid fingers – eager to point at a subject but unwilling to grasp it.
Life is a book that someone else is reading – and you, a key character – hence the need for continual conflict and resolution. We can’t have any boring books.
Since when is failure more appealing? Never give up.
Anyone who takes the time to be kind is beautiful.
People are drawn to you because you make them feel happy, I understand that. But wouldn’t it be nice to have people flock to you wishing for your happiness?
We are all guilty of sin, error, and moments of sheer stupidity; none of us should be casting stones. The occasional arced pebble might be overlooked.
Happiness branches from the tree of kindness, abounding with the fruit of sweet smiles.
I write so others might contemplate things that are out of the ordinary. I write to make people feel – to cause laughter and tears and anger at injustice. I write so the world will imagine and wonder at crazy, incredible truths. I write to have a tiny bit of influence on a universal conscience.
When thunderstorms roll in, you make a choice to either succumb with tears to the gloomy downpour or smile and look for rainbows.
Don’t ever quit pretending.
Life is a bonfire where everyone else has brought marshmallows, and you – a stick.
You need tell me nothing; I already know your heart. Through your simplest choices you’ve given yourself away.
Let the giggles fill your mouth because nothing else tastes or sounds as sweet as laughter.
Past and Present I know well; each is a friend and sometimes an enemy to me. But it is the quiet, beckoning Future, an absolute stranger, with whom I have fallen madly in love.
A liar deceives himself more than anyone, for he believes he can remain a person of good character when he cannot.
Though I love you to the core of my being, so thoroughly that every cell comprising me aches to be near you, I must accept that we can never be together. For our existence parallels the sun and the moon – a temptation in constant, beautiful view, yet if the sun were ever to kiss the moon it would devour the heavenly orb whole. Oh, my darling, if only I were the moon! Then I would dare taste your lips and be happy for my last and final joy! But alas, I am the sun, and I will not venture to destroy the one I love.
Sometimes all you can do is hug a friend tightly and wish that their pain could be transferred by touch to your own emotional hard drive.
Your opponent’s wrong doesn’t automatically make you right. Most fights aren’t about who’s right; they are contention over degrees of wrongness.