Likes Quotes (page 979)
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Mexico admits you through an arched stone orifice into the tree-filled courtyard of its heart, where a dog pisses against a wall and a waiter hustles through a curtain of jasmine to bring a bowl of tortilla soup, steaming with cilantro and lime. Cats stalk lizards among the clay pots around the fountain, doves settle into the flowering vines and coo their prayers, thankful for the existence of lizards. The potted plants silently exhale, outgrowing their clay pots. Like Mexico's children...
Barbara Kingsolver
![Tom Waits quote: "bringing up children was]like living with a bunch of..."](/pic/270091/600x316/quotation-tom-waits-bringing-up-children-waslike-living-with-a-bunch-of.jpg)
From quite early on, I had this idea of compartmentalized identities - 'this is how you are when you are with your mum, and this is how you are when you are with your dad' - so it seemed like I could never absolutely be myself. And the image of myself as compromised and inconsistent made me want to withdraw from the world even further. I had a sense of formulating a paper-mache version of myself to send out in the world, while I sat controlling it remotely from some smug suburban barracks.
Russell Brand
In recent years my understanding of God had evolved into increasingly remote abstractions. I'd come to think of God in terms like Divine Reality, the Absolute, or the One who holds us in being. I do believe that God is beyond any form and image, but it has grown clear to me that I need an image in order to relate. I need an image in order to carry on an intimate conversation with what is so vast, amorphous, mysterious, and holy that it becomes ungraspable. I mean, really, how to you...
Sue Monk Kidd
unless it comes out ofyour soul like a rocket, unless being still woulddrive you to madness orsuicide or murder, don't do it. unless the sun inside you isburning your gut, don't do it. when it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it byitself and it will keep on doing ituntil you die or it dies in you. there is no other way. and there never was.
Charles Bukowski