Happiness ›
Again I’m trying to explain how all talk is slippery.
See, I might want to convey one thing—frustration, say—
but all that gets conveyed is some other thing—rage—my hand
coming fast, erratic, menacing.Who can say how a thing in words turns and flowers like that?
It happens.Now say I want to say to you happiness.
No motive. Nothing behind it.
Just the awareness of a valve suddenly opened and—
happiness!It’s in the lungs, the bones.
But somehow all you hear is I don’t need you.We’re in this room, and you’re not hearing
how I’m still trying to say this thing to you.I’ll say it again. Here. Happiness.
Elisabeth Frost
Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask, “Is life a multiple choice test or is it a true or false test?” …Then a voice comes to me out of the dark and says, “We hate to tell you this but life is a thousand word essay.
It’s true the people we meet shape us. But the people we don’t meet shape us also, often more because we have imagined them so vividly.
There are people we yearn for but never seem to meet.
Time really is one big continuous cloth - We habitually cut out pieces of time to fit us, so we tend to fool ourselves into thinking that time is our size, but it really goes on and on.
Wonder is the desire of knowledge.
You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering.
(via thiselephante)
It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.
I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person.
(via bluebirdsheart)
the bends
n. frustration that you’re not enjoying an experience as much as you should, even something you’ve worked for years to attain, which prompts you to plug in various thought combinations to try for anything more than static emotional blankness, as if your heart had been accidentally demagnetized by a surge of expectations.
