The bereaved need more than just the space to grieve the loss. They also need the space to grieve the transition.
Some writers aren't writers, they are mere escapees' and refugees' on an exile from the jungle of thoughts.
Intellectual growth is when you surpass the barrier of puerility, puzzling people with your dazzling creativity.
Simplicity comes at a cost; the rich can't stand for, forget affording.
When you serve the humanity and contribute to the society without expectation, you are happy.
Before you get bored of yourself try creativity in your life.
Statements of ordinary people are ignored like poor freebies, statements of great people are accepted like profound philosophy.
Catholics have more extreme sex lives because they're taught that pleasure is bad for you. Who thinks it's normal to kneel down to a naked man who's nailed to a cross? It's like a bad leather bar.
The job of reflection is to add a dimension of fable to the reality!
If they keep coming back to you, it isn't love. It is because you made yourself and easy option. The moment the thing they truly want becomes less difficult to obtain is when you will realize that you...
A tomb now suffices him for whom the world was not e
I wept for my family, all if us, my beautiful, idyllic, lost family. I wept for our excesses, our delusions and inconsistencies; not that we had cared too much or too little, although both were true,...
This is the best reason to learn history: not in order to predict the future, but to free yourself of the past and imagine alternative destinies. Of course this is not total freedom - we cannot avoid...
I could never be a Communist. I could never be regimented. I could never be told what to write.
In a crowd do not lose your individuality, and in your individuality do not lose the crowd.
...no matter how rhapsodic one waxes about the process of wresting edible plants and tamed animals from the sprawling vagaries of nature, there's a timeless, unwavering truth espoused by those who wor...
No one man can terrorize a whole nation unless we are all his accomplices.
The bottom half of the page had descended into a doodle of a tiny man giving the middle finger to a giant, angry eagle with razor-sharp talons. Beneath it, the caption: To Mock a Killing Bird.
They call me, The Sharkalator
The horizon changes but the sun does not.