The question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? —REVEREND DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.
The problem was , you never heard anyone say,wow, check out the brain on that babe.
The moral of this story is that sometimes, you can attempt to make all the difference in the world, and it still is like trying to stem the tide with a sieve.
The hardest thing in the world is believing someone can change. It's always easier to go along with the way things are than to admit that you might have been wrong in the first place.
That's why we read fiction, isn't it? To remind us that whatever we suffer, we're not the only ones?
That's what happens to dreams, life gets in the way.
That the sum of a man's life was not where he wound up but in the details that brought him there.
Suffering so someone else didn't have to suffer. Sacrificing your body for someone else's well being.
Sometimes the key to happiness is just expecting a little bit less
Sometimes Josie thought of her life as a room with no doors and no windows. It was a sumptuousroom, sure-a room half the kids in Sterling High would have given their right arm to enter-but itwas also...
Someone who was happywould have little need to hope for change. But, conversely, an optimistic person was that waybecause he wanted to believe in something better than his reality.He started wondering...
So you're not even going to try? You're just going to assume that the answer's no?
So what have I learned that is helpful? Well, if you are white, like I am, you can't get rid of the privilege you have, but you can use it for good. Don't say I don't even notice race! like it's a pos...
Si no corregimos la dirección en la que vamos, acabaremos en el lugar de donde venimos.
She was forced to consider the startling fact that the love of her life might not actually be someone with whom she could spend a lifetime.
She understood what it was like to stand right in front of people you loved, even though they could not see you.
She turned to stare out the window, lost in a thousand thoughts, not a single one of which Danielle could guess.
She isn't the girl who used to live next door, hasn't been for years. Back then she had freckles and jeans with holes at the knees and a ponytail yanked so tight it made her eyes pull at the corners....
She became whoever she needed to be to survive,but she never let anyone else define her.
See, as much as you want to hold on to the bitter sore memory thatsomeone has left this world, you are still in it. And the very act of livingis a tide: at first it seems to make no difference at all,...