Quotes About Acceptance

It shouldn't matter. She knew it shouldn't matter. But the fact was that some people were so unacceptably, hurtfully beautiful, it made you feel ashamed. Your inferiority was right there on display for the world to see. This was what a woman was meant to look like. Exactly this.

Perhaps there were no answers to questions like that. Perhaps nothing was ever "meant to be." There was just life, and right now, and doing your best. Being a bit "bendy.

when you didn't let a woman help, it was a way of keeping her at a distance, of letting her know that she wasn't family, of saying I don't like you enough to let you into my kitchen.

Every day is a gift, Jake. Of course sometimes it's a really horrible gift that you don't want.

But then she just got tired of hating him and started loving him again. It was easier.

You get what you get and you don't get upset!" screamed Fred.

They say it's good to let your grudges go, but I don't know, I'm quite fond of my grudge. I tend it like a little pet.

I'm the only one left holding a grudge. They say it's good to let your grudges go, but I don't know, I'm quite fond of my grudge. I tend it like a little pet.

She didn't want to admit, even to herself, just how much the aging of her face really did genuinely depress her. She wanted to be above such superficial concerns. She wanted to be depressed about the state of the world, not the crumpling and creasing of her skin. Each time she saw evidence of the natural aging of her body, she felt irrationally ashamed, as if she weren't trying hard enough.

Your mind resists death with all its might.

Abigail is having a 'beautiful experience' with Bonnie at the homeless shelter," Madeline said to Ed. Ed took his pillow off his face. "That's revolting," he said. "I know," said Madeline. This is why she loved him.

Tess is a bit shy," her mother used to tell people in an audible whisper, her hand over her mouth. "Gets it from her father, I'm afraid." Tess had heard the cheerful disrespect in her mother's voice and had come to believe that any form of shyness was wrong- morally wrong, in fact. You should want to go to parties. You should want to be surrounded by people. No wonder she felt so ashamed of her shyness, as if it were an embarrassing physical ailment that needed to be hidden at all costs.

He has mistakes in his past. I have mistakes in mine. The fact that we actually are each other's mistakes is irrelevant!

She'd never wanted his gratitude, just his acknowledgment. Just once.

Or, just ignore it, one day you'll turn forty and you'll slowly realize you don't feel the eyes anymore, and the freedom is a relief, but you'll also sort of miss it, and when a truck driver whistles at you while you're crossing the road, you'll think, Really? For me? It had seemed like a really genuine, friendly whistle too. It was a little humiliating just how much time she'd devoted to analyzing that whistle.

It shouldn't matter. She knew it shouldn't matter. But the fact was that some people were so unacceptably, hurtfully beautiful, it made you feel ashamed. Your inferiority was right there on display for the world to see.

But things change. People change. It just happens. It's just life. The fact that you're getting a divorce doesn't change the fact that you had all those wonderful times. And I swear

Her cup size didn't suit either her personality or profession but she was descended from a long line of short, acerbic, busty women, and so this was her lot.

Somehow she knew there would be an unspoken truce on their unspoken battle over God knew what when they were old. They could both surrender to their innate grumpiness. It was going to be a lovely relief.

Accepting or allowing what happens or what others do, without active response or resistance.

She would never again lie in bed on a Good Friday morning and relax in the blissful knowledge that there was nothing to do and nowhere to be, because for the rest of her life, there would always, always be something left undone. An unmade confession. An ugly secret.

The fact was that some people were so unacceptably, hurtfully, beautiful, it made you feel ashamed. Your inferiority was right there on display for the world to see.

He couldn't understand Rachel's need to wonder what could have been, rather than just accepting that it never would be.

All that shiny love stuff doesn't seem relevant anymore. That's for other younger, thinner, happier people, and besides which, it's not actually possible for a dried apricot to shine.)