Death cures all ills. Well, most of them.
Hands are the medium of expression, as eyes are the windows to the soul.
Compassion and pity are not the same: pity is looking down on someone, feeling sorry for them and offering nothing; compassion is seeing their pain and offering them understanding.
The only way past the pain is through it. Pain, grief, anger, misery. . . they don't go away-they just increase and compound and get worse. You have to live through them, acknowledge them. You have to give your pain its due.
One breath at a time. One day at a time. Wake up, and be shredded. Cry for a while. Then stop crying and go about your day. You're not okay, but you're alive, and you will be okay, someday.
A friend is like a good bra: hard to find, comfortable, supportive, always lifts you up, makes you look better, never lets you down or leaves you hanging, and always close to your heart.
You don't ever really let go, though. You don't stop. You don't stop hurting, you don't stop loving. It doesn't go away, you just keep living and eventually things get pushed into the background of your life so it's not consuming you every day. It still hurts, you still miss that person. And then one day you know you're okay.
Without a band, I'm much more free to improvise.
But, most of all, the Great Society is not a safe harbor, a resting place, a final objective, a finished work. It is a challenge constantly renewed, beckoning us toward a destiny where the meaning of our lives matches the marvelous products of our labor.
The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.
I would consider doing any part as long as the script is good and the film has an interesting director.