“Only by acceptance of the past, can you alter it”

I can connect Nothing with nothing

For you know only a heap of broken images

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, and in short, I was afraid.

The very existence of libraries affords the best evidence that we may yet have hope for the future of man

I am moved by fancies that are curled, around these images and cling, the notion of some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.

The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.

This love is silent.

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.

We had the experience but missed the meaning. And approach to the meaning restores the experience in a different form.

For I have known them all already, known them all—Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other Who think the same thoughts without need of speech

I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

So I find words I never thought to speak In streets I never thought I should revisit When I left my body on a distant shore.

Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

I accept my body. I accept how I am and make the best of what I am given.

I sing to the realists, people who accept it like it is. I express problems. There are tears when it’s sad and smiles when it’s happy. It seems simple to me, but for some people, I guess feelin’ takes courage.

Radical Acceptance is the willingness to experience ourselves and our lives as it is.

We don’t ask a flower any special reason for its existence. We just look at it and are able to accept it as being something different from ourselves.

I want to learn how to be more thankful for what I am, than guilty for what I’m not.

The boundary to what we can accept is the boundary to our freedom.

No matter how good or bad we may feel, no matter how up or down we may be, Christ loves us, accepts us, and thinks the world of us.

She has a choice. She can either accept a life of misery or she can struggle against it. And she chooses to struggle…she fails in the end but there’s something beautiful and even heroic in her rebellion.