Quotes About Acceptance

The point I'm making," said Yo-Less, "is that you've got to help your friends, right?" He turned to Johnny. "Now, personally, I think you're very nearly totally disturbed and suffering from psychosomatica and hearing voices and seeing delusions," he said "and probably ought to be locked up in one of those white jackets with the stylish long sleeves. But that doesn't matter, 'cause we're friends.

Listen, happy endings is fine if they turn out happy," said Granny, glaring at the sky. "But you can't make 'em for other people. Like the only way you could make a happy marriage is by cuttin' their heads off as soon as they say 'I do', yes? You can't make happiness…

A certain realization dawned on him. 'Oh,' he said. YES, said Death. 'Not even time to finish my cake?' NO. THERE IS NO MORE TIME, EVEN FOR CAKE. FOR YOU, THE CAKE IS OVER. YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF CAKE.

you cannot apply brakes to a volcano. Sometimes it is best to let these things run their course. They generally die down again after a while.

I don't think I've become old. Just more aware of where the next lavatory is.

WHAT IS THAT SENSE INSIDE YOUR HEAD OF WISTFUL REGRET THAT THINGS ARE THE WAY THEY APPARENTLY ARE? "Sadness, master. I think. Now—" I AM SADNESS.

At least nothing particularly dreadful was happening to him right now. Probably it was only a matter of time.

old folks are s'pposed to like listenin' to the sound of children playin', I read that somewhere, I don't see why we should get told off 'cos we've got the wrong kind of old folks—

Just because you're a zombie doesn't mean you're a bad person.

And Granny Weatherwax said, "I was younger when I last danced with you. But I am old now. There will be no more dances for me.

One minute walking along, the next minute dead. Why? THINK OF IT BEING MORE... DIMENSIONALLY DISADVANTAGED. Yes. I know. Beano relaxed, and stopped wondering too much about events in an increasingly irrelevant world. Death found that people often did, after the initial confusion. After all, the worst had already happened. At least... with any luck.

I don't see what's so triffic about creating people as people and then gettin' upset 'cos they act like people

You want a special truth. *You* want the truth to be a truth that *you* like. You want it to be a pretty little truth that fits what you already believe!

the damned had been given that insight which makes hardship so easy to bear — the absolute and certain knowledge that things could be worse.

If the abnormal goes on long enough it becomes the normal. It was just that, when you came to explain it to a third party, it sounded odd.

He knew that they all knew a lot more than he knew, and was quite happy knowing this.

There is no one true church, no one chosen people.

And so we polish our own lives, creating landscapes and canyons and peaks with the very silt we try to avoid, the dirt we disavow or hide or deny. It is the dirt of our lives—the depressions, the losses, the inequities, the failing grades in trigonometry, the e-mails sent in fear or hate or haste, the ways in which we encounter people different from us—that shape us, polish us to a heady sheen, make us in fact more beautiful, more elemental, more artful and lasting.

Here is the world. It is not a safe place, but however frightening and bewildering life may become, we can survive our fears, grab them by the wolf 's tail as Peter did, and make peace with the world.

My grandmother simply shook her head and said, You know what you saw. The bird doesn't need to be counted, and neither do you.

But harboring regrets is making love to the past, and there is no movement here.

The story of the Utah prairie dog is the story of the range of our compassion. If we can extend our idea of community to include the lowliest of creatures, call them 'the untouchables', then we will indeed be closer to a path of peace and tolerance. if we cannot accommodate 'the other', the shadow we will see on our own home ground will be the forecast of our own species' extended winter of the soul.

We spoke of death, not in a morbid way, but in a pragmatic one. It will come, Dad said. But for now, heaven is here.

Terry, to keep hoping for life in the midst of letting go is to rob me of the moment I am in.