Quotes About Acceptance

And then I see my mother sitting by the open window, her dark silhouette against the night sky. She turns around in her chair, but I can't see her face. "Fallen down," she says simply. She doesn't apologize. "It doesn't matter," I say, and I start to pick up the broken glass shards. "I knew it would happen." "Then why you don't stop it?" asks my mother. And it's such a simple question.

Was there ever a great true love? Anyone who became the object of my obsession and not simply my affections?...I could not let myself become that unmindful. Isn't that what love is - losing your mind? You don't care what people think. You don't see your beloved's faults, the slight stinginess, the bit of carelessness, the occasional streak of meanness. You don't mind that he is beneath you socially, educationally, financially, and morally - that's the worst, I think, deficient morals.

If I stopped running and stood still, I would be accepting that what I had was all I would ever have. And then I would no longer be lost, because there would nowhere else to go

In a crowd of Caucasians, two Chinese people are already like family.

We all had our miseries. But to despair was to wish back for something already lost. Or to prolong what was already unbearable

And later, I discovered that maybe it was fate all along, that faith was just an illusion that somehow you're in control. i found out the most I could have was hope, and with that I was not denying any possibility, good or bad.

Fate is shaped half by expectation, half by inattention. But somehow, when you lose something you love, faith takes over. You have to pay attention to what you lost. You have to undo the expectation.

No es que fuéramos unas desalmadas insensibles al dolor. Todas estábamos atemorizadas, todas teníamos que sobrellevar nuestras desgracias, pero desesperar era tanto como desear algo que ya estaba perdido o prolongar lo que ya era de por sí insoportable.

Qué era peor, nos preguntábamos entre nosotras, sentarnos y esperar la muerte con el rostro apropiadamente sombrío, o buscar una manera de ser felices a pesar de todo?

After a while I didn't think it was a terrible life, no, not really. After a while, I hurt so much I didn't feel any difference.

It doesn't matter, I say, and I start to pick up the broken glass shards. I knew it would happen. Then why you don't stop it? asks my mother. And it's such a simple question.

When you lose your face it is like dropping your necklace down a well. The only way you can get it back is to fall in after it.

Praise, I had learned, was temporary. What someone else controlled and doled out to you, and if you accepted it, and depended on it for happiness, you would become an emotional beggar, and suffer later when it was withdrawn.

Would it last until they were senile? Hard to say. They had been through trial by fire, and it would either forge them like iron or break them apart like untempered glass. But there was this: They both desired the same thing. They wanted to be loved for who they were. They just had to discover who they were beneath the habits of foray and retreat.

What happened to Violet was terrible, and I'm not saying fate happens without blame. But when fate turns out well, everyone should forget the bad road that got us here.

I could finally see what was there: an old woman, a wok for her armor, a knitting needle for her sword, getting a little crabby as she waited patiently for her daughter to invite her in.

And before they ate the last supper of life-ending mushrooms, they would pound the drums and sound the hours. They would ready the souls of their bodies, the soul of the eyes, the soul of the mouths, all of them, one by one. They would know to be ready, to not dillydally and get left behind. Soon the soldiers would arrive. They would stab them with their bayonets, shoot them with their rifles, but they would already be gone, their bodies empty like the hollow husks of the emeralds beetles.

El amor no se puede forzar

Las personas que tienen una religión deberían de estar contentas, porque no a todos les es dado creer en cosas sobrenaturales.

You cannot save people. You can only love them.

Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child's blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality....I wept because I could not believe anymore and I love to believe. I can still love passionately without believing. That means I love humanly. I wept because I have lost my pain and I am not yet accustomed to its absence.

I reserve the right to love many different people at once, and to change my prince often.

I made no resolutions for the New Year. The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning and molding my life, is too much of a daily event for me.

What I cannot love, I overlook. Is that real friendship?