Quotes About Meaning

If love is the answer, could you please rephrase the question?" —LILY TOMLIN

Mama had called Leni the great love of her life and Leni thought maybe that was always true for parents and their children.

When you get . . . to the end, you see that love and family are all there is. Nothing else matters.

A kiss?" She repeated it to stall for time. This was the sort of thing that she'd taken for granted before the war. Men desired her; they always had. She wanted that back, wanted to flirt with Henri and be flirted with, and yet the very idea of it felt sad and a little lost, as if perhaps kisses didn't mean much anymore and flirtation even less.

And what would she have to show for her life? How would her time on this earth be marked? Who would remember her, and for what?

Love. It was the beginning and end of everything, the foundation and the ceiling and the air in between. It didn't matter that she was broken and ugly and sick. He loved her and she loved him

Love. It was the beginning and the end of everything, the foundation and the ceiling and the air in between. It didn't matter that she was broken and ugly and sick. He loved her and she loved him. All her life she had waited--longed for--people to love her, but now she saw what really mattered. She had known love, been blessed by it.

Vianne was thankful for the bell. She was a teacher, for God's sake. What did she know to say about dangers such as these? How could she assuage a child's fear when her own was straining at the leash?

Love wasn't a great, burning brushfire that swept across your soul and charred you beyond recognition. It was being there, simply that.

Geriye ne kalm??t? ki? Her 'merhaba', 'hoÅŸça kal' anlam?na geliyordu.

Uyumak, uyumak, uyumak ve bir daha hiç uyanmamak istiyordu. Büyük bir çaresizliÄŸin içine düÅŸtüÄŸünü hissediyordu ve bir ç?k?? yolu, onu gülümsetecek bir ÅŸey bulam?yordu. Her ÅŸeyden ar?nd?r?lm?? bu yerde göz gezdirirken k?ymetli ya da önemsenmeye deÄŸer bir ÅŸey bulam?yordu.

A life, not merely existence. That was her dream.

Agora sei o que é importante, e não é o que eu perdi. São as minhas lembranças. Feridas cicatrizam. O amor perdura. Nós continuamos.

So this file contained two of three names—-ovna was the suffix for a daughter. Vera Petrovna meant Vera, Petyr's daughter.

Las palabras tenían importancia.

She had counted on a lifetime to teach her children what they needed to know, but she didn't have that gift of grace and time. Still, she had given them what mattered: they were loved and they knew it. Everything else was decoration. Love remains.

Amintirile sunt tot ceea ce ne ramane la final.

She doesn't understand what it means to love books so passionately that you would die without them, that you would simply stop breathing, stop existing. It is quite beyond me, in fact, why she became a librarian in the first place.

It occurs to me how mundane this moment would be if this was really the life I was living.

Please, don't apologize. These are the moments I live for. Reuniting a book with its rightful owner can be magical.

Our subconscious works in metaphors, stories, and word play. That's why a particular story or movie may mean more to some people than to others. Have you considered why you quest for this tale now?

We come to enjoy ourselves in it, come what may. And in doing so we add meaning of our own, proving ourselves to be life's creative participants. We discern and live, thereby enhance life. We change life by making life coherent, and we are in the meantime changed by living the coherence we continually create.

Mix the Protestant impulse to find the meaning and purpose in everything with the Enlightenment's empiricism, and you get our American mania for connecting all the dots,*5 irrationality in rationalist drag.

She said things that'd have sounded like cliches--but when they're said by the woman you love in the middle of the night, it's different. I said things that sounded like cowboy-movie junk, even when they were coming out of my mouth. But I meant them.