Quotes About Acceptance

This Comanche cannot change his face." "And I can't change mine.

This Comanche cannot change his face." "And I can't change mine." He traced the hollow of her cheek, his mouth tipping into a sad smile. "I like your face, Blue Eyes. It is carved upon my heart.

He was a Comanche, first, last, and always. Yet she had come to him.

Why bother with me? Why not find yourself an Indian woman?" "It is you I want.

From the moment she had stepped out from her wooden walls, the path ahead of him had been clearly marked, but he had been too blind to see it. A tosi woman and a Comanche, their pasts stained with tears and bloodshed, had little hope of coexisting happily with either race. To be as one, they had to walk alone, away from both their people.

You do not like me too good. This is a sad thing, eh?" With a sweep of his hand, he indicated the world around them. "The sky is up, the earth is down. The sun shows its face, only to be chased away by Mother Moon. These things are for always, eh? Just as you are my woman. The song was sung long ago, and the song must come to pass. You must accept, Blue Eyes.

Why bother with me? Why not find yourself an Indian woman?" "It is you I want." He brushed his knuckles along the hollow of her cheek. "Your skin is moonlight. I am dark like night next to you." He slid his hand behind her neck and drew her toward him. "Sunshine in your hair, moonlight on your skin, this Comanche's bright one, no?

Jean once told me she's not interested in writing about getting older but about getting dead.

I hate when I'm an idiot and I don't know it. I like to be aware of my idiocy, to really revel in it, take pictures.

What is it?' she cried at herself. 'What is the matter with me? Am I too becoming odd? Is this what spinsterhood does to one?'.....she made for the door her mind seemed to accept the fact that she was entering a new kind of world, the world of spinsterhood, and she saw it as something that had to be faced, lived with, endured. But with the handle of the door gripped in her hand, she looked down at it as she thought bitterly, What a waste of life!

Try not to worry, for time is a great healer.' Such words were futile.

Dear God, I must be dead and in hell since you're here.

She'd be dead before the memories and pain were finally gone; she knew it, accepted it, and dealt with it.

Because sometime, somehow, the god spoke your name. You took a step too far and here you are. None of us can ever go back. Even if we wanted to.

What if everything that has occurred in your life could be defined as having been absolutely perfect?

I hate it when people make fun of me and it turns out they're right.

Oh. Listen, this is really hard for me . . . " "What is?" "You know. Being liked." I started to cry. I couldn't help it.

We lose those we love. Such is the nature of life.

One thing I know is that we all do things we're ashamed of. Shame erupts when you violate some taboo. Anyone who says they haven't suffered shame either hasn't lived or else is lying.

Finally, chocking with sobs, she said, "I was nice every time because I thought maybe this time she'll love me. I thought I just hadn't found the right combination of things to do. There was always the next time. Just one morning I wanted to come down the stairs and have her not say 'Good morning, monster.' If I worked hard enough, I'd find how to make her love me.

doesn't matter if the glass is half full or half empty... drink it and get on with your life.

The Lord loveth a cheerful giver. He also accepteth from a grouch.

Life is messy. I certainly don't expect tidiness from yours or anybody else's.

We don't think of this as a place where people come to die," the gravely cheerful intake counselor had said to us. "We think of it as a place where people come to live!" "To live dyingly,