Quotes About Acceptance

I hope I die in the night.

And I know I said earlier that he was perfect, but he wasn't perfect, far from it; he could be silly and vain and remote and often cruel and still we loved him, in spite of, because.

it was sort of like the first time I got drunk, or slept with a girl; not quite what one expected, really, but once it happened one realized it couldn't be any other way

But does it make any sense at all to know that it ends badly for all of us, even the happiest of us, and that we all lose everything that matters in the end - and yet to know as well, despite all this, as cruelly as the game is stacked, that it's possible to play it with a kind of joy?

E talvez seja ridículo continuar nesse raciocínio, embora não importe já que ninguém nunca vai ver isso, mas será que faz algum sentido saber que acaba mal pra todo mundo, até para os mais felizes de nós, e que todos perdemos tudo o que importa no final, e ao mesmo tempo saber que, apesar de tudo isso, segundo a cruel elaboração do jogo, é possível jogá-lo com uma espécie de alegria?

Well, a change of scenery may be good for you, said Hobie when I went down to see him before I left. Even if the scene isn't what you'd choose.

Whe can't escape who we are

Às vezes queremos o que queremos mesmo sabendo que isso vai nos matar. Não podemos escapar de quem somos.

Harriet felt as though one of the gruesome transparencies of Your Developing Body-all womb, and tubes, and mammaries-had been projected over her poor dumb body; as if all anybody saw when they looked at her-even with her clothes on-were organs and genitalia and hair in unseemly places. Knowing that it was inevitable (just a natural part of growing up!) was no better than knowing that someday she would die. Death, at least, was dignified: an end to dishonor and sorrow.

meaning Death) always wins but that doesn't mean we have to bow and grovel to it. That maybe even if we're not

It was one of the reasons I loved him: for that flattering light in which he saw me, for the person I was when I was with him, for what it was he allowed me to be.

everything was soft and kind and infinitely forgiving. I noted a strange beauty in the faces of people previously repulsive to me. I smiled at everyone and everyone smiled back.

Everything was bathed in a celestial light. I listened to Jack and Lars talk about pinball, motorcycles, female kick-boxing, and was heartwarmed at their attempts to include me in the conversation. Lars offered me a bong hit. The gesture was, to me, tremendously touching and all of a sudden I realized I had been wrong about these people. These were good people, common people; the salt of the earth; people whom I should count myself fortunate to know.

we don't get to choose our own hearts. We can't make ourselves want what's good for us or what's good for other people. We don't get to choose the people we are.

Our own selves make us most unhappy, and that's why we're so anxious to lose them, don't you think? Remember

That maybe even if we're not always so glad to be here, it's our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open.

We can't choose what we want and don't want and that's the hard lonely truth. Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it's going to kill us. We can't escape who we are.

Fate is cruel but maybe not random. Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn't mean we have to bow and gravel to it.

la vita è breve. Che il destino è crudele ma forse non casuale. Che la Natura (intesa come Morte) vince sempre, ma questo non significa che dobbiamo inchinarci e prostrarci al suo cospetto. Che forse anche se non siamo sempre contenti di essere qui, è nostro compito immergerci comunque: entrarci, attraversare questa fogna, con gli occhi e il cuore ben aperti.

Lincoln understood the importance, as one delegate put it, of integrating "all the elements of the Republican party—including the impracticable, the Pharisees, the better-than-thou declaimers, the long-haired men and the short-haired women.

Not everyone was meant to be No. 1.

The sad and poignant thing for Johnson, however, was not his anti-intellectualism in itself but his need to be accepted by the very people he scorned.

We try to have things both ways. We've always refused to live by the book and the rule; but then why start worrying because the world doesn't treat us by rule?

Perhaps it is not such a bad marriage after all? There are innumerable marriages where two people, both twisted and wrong in their depths, are well matched, making each other miserable in the way they need, in the way the pattern of their life demands.