pondering

Your thoughts are transparent.

The tongue never rests. It speaks even when we sleep. It speaks through the mind even when the mouth keeps shut

When they [breasts] are huge, you become very self-conscious...I've learned something though, through my years of pondering and pontificating, and that is: men love them, and I love that.

I sat in a boxWith walls on each side.Not too tall.Not too wide.To think.To ponder.To pray.To hide.I sat in a box and cried.

You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

I go backwards and forwards, recapturing the past, wondering about the future__nd, most unreasonably, I find myself longing for the past more than for the future.

Sitting to think of what to write will only set your ass on fire, give you headache, twist your face to look stupid, instead, walk around with a blank mind and something from somewhere will fill it up.

The real you is not you, the real you is what is within you. What is behind your joy or your melancholy. What gives you the reason to ponder. What moves or stops you. What makes you you is you.

From time to timeI once wondered how one wanders from time to timeAnd think up the paradox lineSpeak of Epoch's crimeOh I lied, it hasn't happened yetBut bet you better believe it's such a habit thatI just said that in a past mindset

Who gets to be the judge of reality? If it was deeply felt, believed, spoken about often or altered your life course, then it was real enough. Faith doesn't get the luxury of all those things one hundred percent of the time, but we call that normal behavior based on a gut feeling._ I said. I looked at his wife and she busted out laughing. Her husband was trying to catch invisible butterflies above his head__ementia. My patients teach me the most sobering of truths: Why wreck his smile. If I could see them, I would want to catch them too.

If you look deep enough into anything, sense is always there to be made, wouldn__ you agree?

What if you were wrong? What if everything you ever believed was a lie? What if you missed your opportunity because you didn't know your worth? What if you settled on familiar, but God was trying to give you something better? What if you decided not to go backwards, but forward? What if doing what you have never done before was the answer to everything that didn't make sense? What if the answer wasn't to be found in words, but in action? What if you found the courage to do what you really wanted to do and doing it changed your whole life?

And in the night you realize, when you wake out of a dream, overcome and captivated by the enchantment of visions that crowd in on each other, just how fragile a handhold, how tenuous a boundary separates us from darkness - we are little flames, inadequately sheltered by thin walls from the tempest of dissolution and insensibility in which we flicker and are often all but extinguished. Then the muted sounds of battle surrounds us, and we creep into ourselves and stare wide-eyed into the night.

I was well aware of her ghosts. I'd met them, once or twice, during her darkness nights. "I knew you were my one when you wouldn't run," she said. How could I? Of course I stayed, when her ghosts scared my own away. What others were too afraid to see, meant everything to me.

It's not about who loves her. It's about how you love her. You have to learn the difference between what she says, and what she means. Don't just make her laugh. Try and understand why she smiles. Plenty have told her she's beautiful, but can you make her feel that way too? There's a difference, see. Compliments might cage her, while empowerment sets her free. My God, what matters to her is not just who flatters her. There's a language to her love you'll need to learn. Speak it true, and I promise you, the best of her, is what you'll earn.

She played hard to get, because she was. And it wasn't a game to her to play. She was hard to get, and hard to get. Don't you understand? She was the one that got away. Either way, if she stayed or strayed, you were better for loving her. And if she loved you back, you learned to breathe easy. Like the air in your world was lighter with her in it. We all know that one we will always look back on and wonder "What if?"....She's hard to get, harder to keep, and hardest to forget.

She'll let you put her in her place, But she won't stand for anything worse than first.

She'll let you put her in her place. But she won't stand for anything worse than first.