Quotes About Acceptance

It flitted through her mind without actual words that skin is an odd thing for the world to make a fuss about, especially when, with your eyes closed, it all feels more or less the same. "Over

But there was no way to slice it that did not feel like a loss. He would simply have to file it away with all the other things—both small and large—that should not have been asking too much from life, but which life had taken from him all the same.

It was actually harder to think about moving forward into whatever unknown situation they had planned for me than to ditch out and go back to what I knew. What I knew was terrible, but at least I knew it, and there's something that's almost a comfort in that.

You see something you like in a man, so you ask him in, but what comes in is all of him. Not only the parts you took a liking to, but the many parts that don't fit with you at all.

She doesn't want to move forward into the next part of her life; she can't move backward in time even if she tries. And she doesn't much like where she is.

Also, I should note that in my opinion, we're all wounded humans. The rest is just a matter of degree.

How would I even know that, Lucas? I have no idea if how I feel is what other people would call okay. I'm just the way I've always been.

Son, don't you ever be sorry for saying what's really true, especially not in a room like this that's just made for that. The way you feel is the way you feel, and no matter how much you think you should feel some other way, you can't change that. There's some things in this life you can change and some you can't.

Catherine Ryan Hyde

Here's what I learned from Lenny in my sophomore year of high school: the down-and-out character is just as human as everybody else. You may not want to know him in real life, but in fiction, you just might dare. And in knowing him, you get a lesson in humanity: we're more the same than we might imagine. And that even the class outcast has talents. Someone just needs to tell her what they are.

People make mistakes all the time. That's more or less the definition of a person: we're a bunch of walking, talking mistake-holders. When I make a mistake, if I was doing my best, I let myself off the hook.

Parents and other adults give children a precious gift when they affirm them for who they are, not just for what they do.

The more a man knows the more he forgives.

You are going to break your promise. I understand. And I hold my hands over the ears of my heart, so that I will not hate you.

I know you loved both he and I, the way a mother can love two sons. And no one should be judged for loving more than they ought, only for loving not enough.

Who are you?" "I am Death," said the creature. "I thought that was obvious." "But you're so small!" "Only because you are small. You are young and far from your Death, September, so I seem as anything would seem if you saw it from a long way off-very small, very harmless. But I am always closer than I appear. As you grow, I shall grow with you, until at the end, I shall loom huge and dark over your bed, and you will shut your eyes so as not to see me.

In his own country, Death can be kind.

You know, in Fairyland-Above they said that the underworld was full of devils and dragons. But it isn't so at all! Folk are just folk, wherever you go, and it's only a nasty sort of person who thinks a body's a devil just because they come from another country and have different notions. It's wild and quick and bold down here, but I like wild things and quick things and bold things, too.

I will see him with his skin off before I agree to fall in love.

No one belongs when they are new to this world. All children are Changelings.

It is harder, usually, to find a person who wants to walk the streets of me, to taste the teas of my country, to... immigrate, you could say.

Everybody's strange everywhere. Most of the trick of being a social animal is pretending you're not. But who do you fool? Nobody worth talking to.

Everybody is bizarre and disgusting and interesting and fixated on fetishes they wouldn't admit to their grandmother on pain of vaporization and worthy of love. You are bizarre and disgusting and interesting and fixated on fetishes you wouldn't admit to your grandmother on pain of vaporization and worthy of love.

Well enough. I won't ask you if your love is true or any of that rot—it's not my place to judge. After all, I'm a naked woman chained to a wall; I've no business questioning the lifestyles of wine-makers or anyone else.