Quotes About Acceptance

In this world of dreams, drifting off still more; and once again speaking and dreaming of dreams. Just let it be.

See and realize that this world is not permanent. Neither late nor early flowers will remain.

The flower invites the butterfly with no-mind; The butterfly visits the flower with no-mind. The flower opens, the butterfly comes; The butterfly comes, the flower opens. I don't know others, Others don't know me. By not-knowing we follow nature's course

The type of loneliness where you need to keep struggling to accept a situation is fundamentally different than the sort you know you'll get through if you just hang in there

Find patience in the breath of life.

Face the facts of being what you are, for that is what changes what you are.

One bright pansy popping through a sidewalk crack will get weeded or stepped on; it's not until twenty fabulous flowers bust through and the pavement is ruined anyway that someone decides maybe it isn't a sidewalk at all, but a flower garden. So please, for the love of gender--go bloom.

So please, for the love of gender- go bloom. Or water someone else while they do.

Remember - the fault is in the garment, certainly not the girl. There is nothing whatsoever wrong with the shape of her. Some designers cut their clothes for certain body types and others for others. Occasionally the pattern will make her ass look strangely square or the fabric will cling in an unflattering way, but Not Cut Well is always the answer, and it has the extremely delightful quality of saving your ass and being completely true at the same time. Use it wisely.

Glitter family is my long-time favourite term for this: the people who those of us pushed to society's margins (and beyond) make our cohort. Glitter is known to be shiny and unruly, easy to get and hard to be rid of. I love the drag connotations and the femme visibility of it, as well as its unmistakably queer sensibility—look only as far as glitter-bombing for proof that nothing is as thoroughly and satisfyingly queer as glitter.

I am doing the best I can. I am hoping I am good enough. I am holding you close, as close as I can, hand cradling your head and breath on your hair, my whole body curved around yours, sheltering you as best I can, trying to remember that I cannot keep you safe, but I can keep you loved.

Instead of wishing for the Field Guide, be glad to live in the beautiful chaos of each of us finding our way into our own gendered menu, our own identity, and our own name for it, which—if you will just love us while we do this complex and fragile part—we will kiss into your mouth with such gratitude when we're through.

When people speak admiringly of a butch, what I see is someone who has taken on the best gendered characteristics of both woman and man, left a lot of the stuff born of misogyny and heterosexism behind, and walked forward into the world without apology.

But if I can't go from the body I have to a body that I am certain would feel very right—right like having wings would be or even right like wearing spats would be—then I think, maybe not for me.

And at the risk of answering the same question the same way over and over: it's not a fucking binary. It would be easier for a lot of people if it were, but it just bloody well ain't, and nothing any of us does can make it that way. Please take a deep breath. Or,

It's okay. We aren't in the same class. Just don't forget that some of us watch the sunset too.

I love you, Rogan … I could not ask you to give up who you are when it is the very reason I want you.

is what I have to do, she thought firmly, so I'm doing it. As her dear, incarcerated father was fond of saying, wishing that things were different didn't make it so.

When one experiences truth, the madness of finding fault with others disappears.

Ch?opak nawet przystojny, tylko czo?o mia? troch? za niskie. Ale ostatecznie czo?o to nie Pa?ac Kultury, mo?e by? i niskie, w pracy umys?owej to nie przeszkadza.

Acepta lo que hubieras escogido de haber podido escoger!

He ate off dirty plates and was unfazed. His pillowcase was soiled and stank, but he never thought of changing it. Hamid thought long and hard, but he couldn't understand him. He often asked, 'Babuji, why aren't you revolted by dirtiness?

People are crying up the rich and variegated plumage of the peacock, and he is himself blushing at the sight of his ugly feet.

The pain of losing something precious - be it happiness or material wealth – can be forgotten over time. But our missed opportunities never leave us, and every time they come back to haunt us, we ache. Or perhaps what haunts us is that nagging thought that things might have turned out differently. Because without that thought, we would put it down to fate and accept it.