Quotes About Acceptance

I want your innocence. I want your blind, unquestioning devotion to your father, your acceptance of who and what he is. I want you to look at me the way you look at him, knowing the worst. I want you to trust me, even when your brain tells you you shouldn't, I want you to ignore common sense and your lifelong need to protect yourself. I want you to give yourself to me, body and soul.

Don't worry...it happens to lots of guys.

The trouble with dying," she'd told Jeannie once, "is that you don't get to see how everything turns out. You won't know the ending.

I think if you'll look around, my boy,' he said gently, 'you'll find that no one is quite right. But we all do the best we can.

There is a way the truth hits you, both hard and gentle at the same time. It punches you in the stomach as it puts its loving arm around your shoulder. Yes, I am terrible to behold, the truth says. But you suspected it all along, didn't you? And isn't better, now that you know? Now, at least, it all makes sense.

There are ways to do things, ways to act with people, and I do not understand them. I cannot understand what people mean when they talk. I do not do things right. I do not feel things right. I do not see things right. I am not...I'm not made of the same thing as everyone else.' The baker took in a deep breath. 'I think if you'll look around, my boy,' he said gently, 'you'll find that no one is quite right. But we all do the best we can.

This is what it is to live in the world. You have to give yourself over to the cold, at least a little bit.

You see," the lord explained, "everyone else has them. You wouldn't want your child to be the only one who had flaws. What would it be like for them?

Something was wrong with him - and down deep he'd known his whole life. Maybe the wards had even said something. (You are not right, boy.) Maybe the other children had. (What's wrong with you?) Maybe it had happened while he watched one child after another walk off with a family from the Eastern Villages, with a merchant or a farmer. (You know no one will ever take you, right?) Maybe he'd even said it to himself.

the water was holding [him] close and telling him beautiful lies, and since it was the end, he chose to believe them.

She did not like seeing her loved ones like this, bent over with sorrow; everything in her wanted to cry out, to thrash and scream at the sight of it. But she knew that great grief came from great love, and that their grief was an honor to her. And she did love them so very much.

So, if someone's changed overnight -- by witch curse or poison apple or were-turtle -- you have to show them what's good. You show them love. That works a surprising amount of the time. And if that doesn't save them, they're not worth saving.

Hugging himself, Oscar leaned against the pantry wall. For two days all he had wanted was for Caleb to come back, and now he was back and Oscar had made a mess of things: he had angered half the customers and confused the other half, and the coin boxes did not look as they should, and [rich, noble] people were complaining about him, and he couldn't look at anybody, and [redacted] was dead, and Oscar was odd. 'What if he doesn't keep me?

You are where you are, you don't have to judge it, although some of the old poems might be more interesting than some I might write tomorrow.

There are so many ways to heal. Arrogance may have a place in technology, but not in healing. I need to get out of my own way if I am to heal.

listen without judgment.

KNOWING when to quit may be my greatest victory.

Pain is pain, however it begins. And however you got here, one thing is for sure: your self-loathing is not your fault.

1. What makes you hate yourself? 2. Where do those things occur least? 3. What makes you feel inspired, serene, amused, excited (in a good way), unself-conscious, passionate, compassionate, and more or less at home? 4. Where are those things?

shapes we had to take in order to please others: the shapes that we hate. Our true selves are the selves we would have been had no one tried to break or shame or change us. Our true selves are what those who actually love us see in us. Our true selves are who we have always been, even if they have been in hiding all this time. Our true selves are who we will, in that sheer blue zone above self-loathing, always be.

the Self-Loathing League.

We cannot accept what would normally be joy because we believe we do not deserve it. Thus whatever looks like joy in our lives cannot really be joy but rather something wicked resembling

We cannot accept what would normally be joy because we believe we do not deserve it. Thus whatever looks like joy in our lives cannot really be joy but rather something wicked resembling it.

Our true selves, the selves from our "times before," are waiting for us. Where to find them? In the places and activities that make us hate ourselves the least. Do you hate yourself less than usual while mountain-climbing, singing, studying, discussing lab results, visiting France? Wherever you hate yourself less is where your true self lives, where he or she feels safe to work and play.