I want to wade into the water on the sidewalk, crawl out of this feeling without giving it a name. Take a lighter to love’s sticky edges so its sadness isn’t caught in my throat.
SCHUYLERThere will be a time where this hurts less and it will not mean it didn’t matter. It means that in the face of feeling something precious slip in my hands, I will always find a way back to myself.
More Schuyler Quotes
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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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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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I don’t want to be a saint, I want a love I don’t fight alone to keep.
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I’m choosing to believe things are getting better again. The give and take of joy, remembering a few days of ache does not mean forever.
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Meet me where happiness doesn’t feel like a false spring.
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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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I still know the fabric of where I begin and end.
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I’m thinking about how early the spring flower buds rise up from the grass; just barely on winter’s heels. How uncomfortable, how cold the soil must be, still half-frosted, when the roots start to take shape.
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I never lose pieces of me, I just gain new understanding.
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Your anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels now.
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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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For now, I’ll bring what I can to my own four walls. I recognize the purpose, the promise of this: a church is made by its space, by its practices.
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If every feeling comes like a wave, I try to decide what kind of coastline I’ll become.
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I know I could be an astronomer of this swooning.
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In a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.
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