Quotes About Acceptance

I was tired," she says. "I made a mistake." "You're not tired anymore?" She doesn't say anything. Then she says, "I am. But it's OK.

Sometimes I suspect that what had really happened was that we became more resigned, more cynical, raised our pain thresholds as we lowered our expectations. All in all, settled for less.

We Irish have a gift for resignation. Or, put another way, fatalism.

Nie mo?esz pozwoli? by fakt, ?e kto? chce twojej ?mierci, uniemo?liwi? ci wypicie twojej herbaty.

At any rate, let's not waste time on ruminations and regrets in the middle of a pandemic.

Not beautiful, not brilliant, no longer young.

Really, thought Lib, who ever died exultingly? Whatever fool penned that phrase had never sat by a bed with his ears pricked for the last rasp.) Aged

My names were hand-me-downs too: girl, the creature, or, most often, you there.

You, she thought. Every flawed, scrawny

The days of my vanity are over and heaven knows they weren't happy enough to regret

One couldn't pick whom to love, thought Anne, The woman beside her was friend and sister and lover and many things besides. One could only hope to recognise love where it grew, and get a grip on it and hold on.

How could anyone bear to be a parent? Like contracting to love a werewolf.

I'd actually rather not have you thinking about that stuff every time you look at me, OK? There's more tears rolling down Grandma. Sweetie, she says, all I think when I look at you is hallelujah.

It's like he has emotional amnesia... I think you have to accept that the person you knew isn't there at the moment. I was witness to how much he loved you. I have the photos. This isn't the person we knew. I don't recognize this person. He's shed his skin. Her heart is broken too. She has to say the thing that will give me back my life. She draws on every reserve. I see how much it hurts her and it hurts me too. I came from her joy and her pain, I lived in it and I live in it now.

You want to know, but are afraid to ask, whether or not I found someone. If there could be anyone to fill that hole in my heart after I lost him. I did. Life is futile, says my new therapist, Michaela, and no one gets out of it alive. There is only love.

I finally accept that not only do I not understand the death of my relationship, but I do not need to. These men were good and kind to me, they loved me and I loved them back and the shock at the finish holds no wisdom. The revelation is not that I lost them, but that I had them.

The sadness ? the general sadness that squats and pees inside my brain ? isn't over. It never will be. I know how best to chase it away, though. It usually works. Sometimes it doesn't. But I pray and say, fuck it, then. I choose this. It chooses me. I choose it back.

When he asked if he was mine, tears in his eyes, I think he knew what he would do, what he would have to do, and he was mourning us. He was mourning us the whole time.

It took a long time, but my heart now feels full when I think of him. When you fall in love again—which I have—it's funny the other things that come back in with that open-ness. You have this ghost chorus of the lovers who came before, but they're benign now, they're good spirits.

And if you don't know who you are, or if your real self has drifted away from you with the undertow, madness at least gives you an identity.

The demand for equal rights in every vocation of life is just and fair; but, after all, the most vital right is the right to love and be loved.

The motto should not be: Forgive one another; rather: Understand one another.

Among my male and female friends, there are a few who are of either a completely Uranian[1] or a bisexual[2] disposition. I have found these individuals far above average in terms of intelligence, ability, sensitivity, and personal charm. I empathize deeply with them, for I know that their sufferings are of a larger and more complex sort than those of ordinary people. [1] probably called transgender now [2] probably called genderqueer now

Families are weird. You'd think that people who live and eat and sleep in the same place would always have a lot in common. But sometimes they don't have anything in common AT ALL. You can have a brother who really likes ballet and a sister who thinks it's girlie. You could probably have Darth Vader and Mickey Mouse in the same family; they're that weird.