If every feeling comes like a wave, I try to decide what kind of coastline I’ll become.
SCHUYLERWe’ve never seen what a happy life could look like if we chose to spend it by ourselves – sharing our beautiful lives with friends, family members, the occasional crush, and lounging out in that quiet space alone as if an idyllic sunned beach.
More Schuyler Quotes
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I will still live like a ghost in the mornings; walking, listening, pouring coffee to finish sometime by the afternoon, when I’ve had enough of watching the world and do all I can to live in it.
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The world will be loud again. I’ll notice the loneliness less.
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I’m remembering again, how loneliness has always made me brave.
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I know I could be an astronomer of this swooning.
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We’re in spring and I have learned how to be gentle and sharp; strong bark on budding trees. Hold out your hands. I’ll leave a pink kiss and a pocket knife.
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Yes, this life is mine, but more often I watch it take place and my hands feel too far away to touch it.
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We’ve never seen what a happy life could look like if we chose to spend it by ourselves – sharing our beautiful lives with friends, family members, the occasional crush, and lounging out in that quiet space alone as if an idyllic sunned beach.
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How radiant you are, waiting by the window, watching for the sun to grant you more time to dance beneath it. You’ve let yourself dream again. Even if its in bites, even if it’s in a different voice than it used to be.
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I allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.
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Meet me where happiness doesn’t feel like a false spring.
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I’m writing about moving again, and when I write about moving, I really mean beginning. I’m beginning again.
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In a dream, I’m holding you close and when I wake, I do. How lucky, to want and have.
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I don’t want to be a saint, I want a love I don’t fight alone to keep.
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I’ll craft a haven that that cradles every joy and sorrow, but doesn’t hold them to keep.
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Take me back to the evergreen trees; to the sunlight through the leaves, the bending ferns and fronds. The pitter of the rain, the smooth rocks sleeping under moss. Take me back to the life I know before this body.
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