It is shaming sometimes how the body will not, or cannot, lie about emotions. Who, for decorum’s sake, has ever slowed his heart, or muted a blush?
He says a million things without saying a word. I have never heard a more eloquent silence.
I am beginning to measure myself in strength, not pounds. Sometimes in smiles.
Why are you being so mean?" "Friends tell friends the truth. " "yeah, but not to hurt, to help.
Write about the emotions you fear the most.
She cannot chain my soul. Yes, she could hurt me. She'd already done so. . . I would bleed, or not. Scar, or not. Live, or not. But she could not hurt my soul, not unless I gave it to her.
I wonder how long it would take for anyone to notice if I just stopped talking.
Science is wonderful at destroying metaphysical answers, but incapable of providing substitute ones. Science takes away foundations without providing a replacement. Whether we want to be there or not, science has put us in the position of having to live without foundations. It was shocking when Nietzsche said this, but today it is commonplace; our historical position-and no end to it is in sight-is that of having to philosophise without 'foundations'.
I must admit to a personal lack of sympathy with women who have themselves photographed in black stockings, garter belts and boots, with bare breasts, bananas, and coy, come-hither glances. . . . A woman using her own face and body has a right to do what she will with them, but it is a subtle abyss that separates men's use of women for sexual titillation from women's use of women to expose that insult.
I don't give a damn what people think.
Men stumble over pebbles, never over mountains.