People don't get to choose their family, but if you have the family you would choose - that's happiness.
When you come from a big family, you see that, growing up, you're learning how to share. Your sisters have got your back; you're not alone in this - 'We all support you!' Your family provides that; it gives you a sense of safety, and it's a very grounding feeling.
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When you come from a big family, you see that, growing up, you're learning how to share. Your sisters have got your back; you're not alone in this - 'We all support you!' Your family provides that; it gives you a sense of safety, and it's a very grounding feeling.
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she slammed the door andwas gone.I looked at the closed doorand at the doorknoband strangelyI didn't feelalone.
Our ancestors derived less from life than we do, but they also expected much less and were less intent on controlling the future. We are of the arrogant generations who believe a lasting happiness was promised to us at birth. Promised? By whom?
He conveyed a strange impression of being in safety, and completely secure. He had a courteous little manner with him, and smiled and nodded, as I pointed out the hills and the tall trees to him, as if he were interested in everything, and incapable of surprise at anything. I wondered if this consistency was produced by an entire ignorance of the evil of the world, or by a deep knowledge and acceptance of it.
Struggling alone, like the everyday and ending with the same fate.
In the centre of Bond was a hurricane-room, the kind of citadel found in old-fashioned houses in the tropics. These rooms are small, strongly built cells in the heart of the house, in the middle of the ground floor and sometimes dug down into its foundations. To this cell the owner and his family retire if the storm threatens to destroy the house, and they stay there until the danger is past. Bond went to his hurricane room only when the situation was beyond his control and no other possible action could be taken. Now he retired to this citadel, closed his mind to the hell of noise and violent movement, and focused on a single stitch in the back of the seat in front of him, waiting with slackened nerves for whatever fate had decided for B. E. A. Flight No. 130.