However impressed we may be with NVC concepts, it is only through practice and application that our lives are transformed.
Hunting, fishing, drawing, and music occupied my every moment. Cares I knew not, and cared naught about them.
How could I make a little book, when I have seen enough to make a dozen large books?
But the moment a bird was dead, no matter how beautiful it had been in life, the pleasure of possession became blunted for me.
. . . nature indifferently copied is far superior to the best idealities.
But hopes are shy birds flying at a great distance, seldom reached by the best of guns.
There is the morass, wherein you plunge up to your knees, or the walking over the stubborn, dwarfish shrubbery, whereby one treads down the forests of Labrador; and the unexpected bunting or sylvia which perchance, and indeed as if by chance alone, you now and then see flying before you, or hear singing from the ground creeping plant.
Nose, nose, jolly red nose,And who gave thee that jolly red nose?Nutmegs and ginger, cinammon and cloves;And they gave me this jolly red nose.
We all know we're going to die one day, but who wants to think about it? What's sustainable is joy, pleasure and freedom.
Boo, I think I no longer believe in monsters as faces in the floor or feral infants or vampires or whatever. I think at seventeen now I believe the only real monsters might be the type of liar where there's simply no way to tell. The ones who give nothing away.
The less I pray, the harder it gets; the more I pray, the better it goes.