Don't turn your back on the world, there still might be someone who cares.
I don't need a painting or picture to remind me of you.
We are so accustomed to wearing a disguise before others that eventually we are unable to
recognize ourselves.
A mother who spoils her children fattens a serpent.
Sometimes to realize you were well someone had to come along and hurt you.
What is right os often forgotten by what is convenient.
Earthquakes bring out the worst in some guys, that's all.
Gravity catches up with all of us.
"You're undeserving; so you can't have it,". . . I don't need less than a deserving man. . .
They charge me just the same for everything as they charge the deserving. What is middle class
morality? Just an excuse for never giving me anything.
The soul wanted what it wanted. . . poor bird, not knowing which way to fly.
Saints need sinners.
Conscience is the inner voice that warns us somebody may be looking.
I care not so much what I am to others as I respect what I am in myself. I will be rich
by myself and not by borrowing.
. . . Many of us who walk to and fro upon our usual tasks are prisoners drawing mental
maps of escape.
We always like those who admire us, but we do not always like those whom we admire.
Who speaks ill of other to you will speak ill of you to others.
You oughtn't yeild to temptation.
Well, somebody must, or the thing becomes absurd.
If you try to be too sharp, you will cut yourself.
Ask a lot, but take what is offered.
"I see a tiny horse with wings upon its back," said Flutterby. Then she became very excited.
"Why that's me I see!" After looking at herself for a moment she asked, "But what I am?"
"You are you. Just as I am me. Nothing more, nothing less."
Iron Rules are prohibitions imposed by man or God - laws and restrictions that keep us from
doing what we want. . . There are Rules of Gold as well as Rules of Iron. For every Rule of Iron
that binds us, there's a Rule of Gold to set us free. And the strongest one is the Gold Rule of
Fulfilled Desire. 'Fulfilled desire finds us, the stronger.' Satisfy one desire, see, and we
grow more powerful - always more poweful.
It's the same me, the one from yesterday who'll wake up tomorrow.
There's no right. There's no wrong. There's only popular opinion.
I feel I am a captive aboard a refugee ship. The ship that will never dock.
I used to abuse myself just so I could use them. I was a conforming non-conformist,
product of an apocalyptic worldview. I'm still looking for someone to blame.
She felt like a jack-in-the-box with somebody else's hand on the crank.
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
I don't remember names. Ascribing names to indiviuals in a crowd of nebulous, ever-
morphing characters is about as useless as naming every little ant in an anthill. New faces fill
old roles without notice, but the group never changes. Why bother with inconsequential details
like identity?
Neurotics build castles in the sky, and psychotics live in them, and people like me just
pretend to live in them.
Conscience is the inner voice that warns us somebody may be looking.
Everything is funny as long as it is happening to somebody else.
If organized religion is the opium of the masses, then disorganized religion is the
marijuana of the lunatic fringe.
. . .but I'm breathing.
I ask for so little. . . Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.
It is hard to be a princess in a world full of frogs.
She was a new person about to create a new history. The first steps had been taken.
Complexity was something she would learn as she grew into the woman she would become.
I had always felt that the Devon School came into existence the day I entered it, was
vibrantly real while I was a student there, and then blinked out like a candle the day I left.
There are just tiny fragments of pleasure and luxury in the world, and there is something
unpatriotic about enjoying them.
There was no one to stop me but myself. Putting aside soft reservations about What I Owed
Devon and my duty to my parents and so on, I reckoned my responsibilities by the light of the
unsentimental night sky and knew that I owed no one anything; I owed it to myself to meet this
crisis in my life when I chose, and I chose now.
She had fallen and there was no one to catch her.
I'm eleven today. I'm eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, and
one, but I wish I was one hundred and two. I wish I was anything but eleven because I want today
to be far away already, far away like a runaway balloon, like a tiny O in the sky, so tiny-tiny
you have to close your eyes to see it.
I was alone. All I had were the voices in my head telling me I blew it, I was too needy,
I was never going to be loved once someone really got to know me. I felt that I wasn't even good
enough to be loved by my own parents.
I mean, you know, all I've really, really, really, really got is myself, and then eventually
I'm gone.
"Do you believe that He will come again on Christmas Eve in our town?"
"No," he answers, shaking his head sadly, "no, I don't."
"Then why do you go each year?" he asked.
"Ah," he says smiling, "what if I were the only one who wasn't there when it happened?"
Trouble me, disturb me with all your cares and your worries. . . Why let your shoulders
bend underneath this burden when my back is sturdy and strong? Trouble me.
You know that place between asleep and awake? Where you still remember dreaming? That's
where I will always think of you.
