Sometimes the river of life takes you to the rocks. The letter,
Sometimes the lion must roar to remind the horse of his fear.
Sometimes it is necessary to do the wrong things for the right reasons. The important thing is to be sure that our reasons are right and that we admit the wrong, that we do not lie to ourselves and co...
Some women cry easily. The tears fall as gently as fragrant raindrops in a sun-shower, and leave the face clear and clean and almost radiant. Other women cry hard, and all the loveliness in them colla...
Some people always manage to make us feel sorry for them, no matter how stupid and angry we feel about it after.
So, while fire and smoke singed the midnight sky, and bells and sirens railed about a kilometre away, we directed our men as they moved the heavy equipment into the new factory. And Krishna and Villu...
So when will be the time to get on the train?I think.....a little bit almost quite very soon and not long.
Slowly, desolately, the fist of what we'd done unclenched the clawed palm of what we'd become.
Silences can wound as surely as the twisting lash.
She was a river, not a stone, and every day was another curve in tomorrow’s plain. She was pulled from a family she loved, and that loved her, she thought, until they took the word of a man, a friend...
She said I was interested in everything and committed to nothing.
Riding a motorcycle is velocity as poetry. The fine balance between elegant agility and fatal fall is a kind of truth, and like all truth, it carries a heartbeat with it into the sky. Eternal moments...
Regret is a ghost of love. Regret is a nicer self that we send into the past from time to time, even though we know it’s too late to change what we said, or did. We do it because it’s human: a thing o...
Our decisions become narratives: fated choices that unknowably change the course of the living river. In the present, where decisions and connections are made, Fate waits on the riverbank of Story, le...
One of the reasons why we crave love, and seek it so desperately, is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only lonelines...
Motive matters more with good deeds than it does with bad.
Men don’t like to be that honest about love: to put the gun in a woman’s hand, and hold it against their own hearts, and say, Here, this is how you kill me. But it was okay. It was okay.
I looked in the mirror once more. The new clothes felt like salt on the raw wounds, but they covered the worst of it, and I looked less alarming, less confronting, less hideous. I smiled at the mirror...
I never told her that--what her affectionate and unconditional acceptance meant to me. So much, too much, of the good that I felt in those years of exile was locked in the prison cell of my heart: tho...
Despotism despises nothing so much as righteousness in its victims.
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