Quotes About Acceptance

Mercy. It didn't mean that everything was okay, could or should be condoned. But we can't move out of ourselves and our own self-justifications until we look in the mirror and know, yes, I, too, could have done this. Or worse. My anger at my mother. At Mama for telling me things I don't want to know.

It's not the first incomprehensible thing that's happened in our lifetime," his wife reminded him.

love my mother, not as a prisoner of atherosclerosis, but as a person; and I must love her enough to accept her as she is, now, for as long as this dwindling may take; and I must love her enough, when the time comes, to let her go into a new birth, a new life of which I can know nothing, and which I cannot prove; a new life which may not be; but of which I have had enough intimations so that I cannot discount its possibility, no matter how difficult such a possibility is for the intellect.

Okay, I can get to the grade school all right, but I can't possibly take you with me. You're so big you wouldn't even fit into the school bus. Anyhow, you'd terrify everybody.' At the thought she smiled, but Proginoskes was not in a laughing mood. 'Not everybody is able to see me,' he told her. 'I'm real, and most earthlings can bear very little reality.

We tend, today, to want to have a road map of exactly where we are going. We want to know whether or not we have succeeded in everything we do. It's all right to want to know—we wouldn't be human if we didn't—but we also have to understand that a lot of the time we aren't going to know.

you don't have to understand things for them to be.

I have been wondering this summer why our love has seemed deeper, tenderer than ever before. It's taken us twenty-five years, almost, but perhaps at last we are willing to let each other be; as we are; two diametrically opposite human beings in many ways, which has often led to storminess. But I think we are both learning not to chafe at the other's particular is ness.

Love does not judge.

How can we be able to live our lives if we deny the one who we truly love?

You want to bask in your perfect marriage, with your perfect wife and kids, and gloat at the rest of the world! Dont you? And now you've found a flaw, you cant stand it. Well, stand it, Simon! Stand it! Because the world is full of flaws.

Sextus [Empericus] identifies three different types of philosophy. There are Dogmatists, who think that they know the truth. There are Academic Sceptics, who think the truth can never be known. Then there are Sceptics, who retain an open mind, not thinking truth is yet discovered, but prepared to accept that it might be.

Life went on. And it was quite usual to see young people taking a boat out over the quiet water of the lake in Lough Glass at night. Stevie and Kit took the little box of ashes and sprinkled it in the water. The moon was high in the sky and they didn't feel sad. It wasn't really a funeral. All that was over, in London and years ago … the first time. This wasn't a sad thing, it was just the right thing to do.

To heal would be to open the wound,examine it and forgive

Emmet, I love you. I'm so blind and stupid, thank you for waiting for me, for understanding.

Birisini sevince onu de?i?tirmeye kalkmak yanl?? bir ?eydi.

Art?k her ÅŸeyin eskisi gibi olmas?n? beklemekten vazgeçip olanlar? kabullenmenin zaman? gelmiÅŸti.

your looks—that

It's not what I thought my life would be either, but somewhere along the line we have to pick things up and run with them.

Mostly I have felt myself becoming a servant of sadness. I am still looking for the beauty in that.

199. For to wish to forget how much you loved someone—and then, to actually forget—can feel, at times, like the slaughter of a beautiful bird who chose, by nothing short of grace, to make a habitat of your heart.

I told you I wanted to live in a world in which the antidote to shame is not honor, but honesty.

Last night I wept in a way I haven't wept for some time. I wept until I aged myself. I watched it happen in the mirror. I watched the lines arrive around my eyes like engraved sunbursts; it was like watching flowers open in time-lapse on a windowsill. The tears not only aged my face, they also changed its texture, turned the skin of my cheeks into putty. I recognized this as a rite of decadence, but I did not know how to stop it.

What are you supposed to do with all the love you have for somebody if that person is no longer there? What happens to all that leftover love? Do you suppress it? Do you ignore it? Are you supposed to give it to someone else?

She grows up feeling wrong, out of place, too dark, too tall, too unruly, too opinionated, too silent, too strange. She grows up with the awareness that she is merely tolerated, an irritant, useless, that she does not deserve love, that she will need to change herself substantially, crush herself down if she is to be married.