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Look at you, standing there in your iron- gray dress, feeling piousand self- righteous while you starve small children!
Then turn your eyes back on me, and tell me that Cathy and I are still children to be treated with condescension, and are incapable of understanding adult subjects.
And why is it all men thinkeverything a woman writes is trivial or trashy-or just plain sillydrivel? Don't men have romantic notions? Don't men dream of findingthe perfect love?
I find people with depression are like a broken clocks, and clock maker after clock maker will try to fix you, but sometimes time itself is the answer.
Ricky just listens. He isn't shocked. He isn't surprised. He listens to me because he knows. He knows the shame and the guilt and the sorrow and the rage. And he does not judge me. He just listens.
The struggle to keep aroused emotions within proper boundaries is won by putting a conscious leash on them and leading them like junkyard dogs right to the throne of grace
And grief, no matter how you try to cater to its wail, has a way of fading away, and the person so real, so beloved, becomes a dim, slightly out-of-focus shadow.
That night she dreamed of the deer. Strangely, the animal was holding her. She cuddled close into the soft fur and touched and kissed it gently. In the morning her pillow was wet with tears.
And as I venture into anothers pit of everlasting darkness, I'll return with a simple blackened rose. and with that rose I shall write the stories it tells.
Greg: Scott, great horde.My realization was that I could never *actually* live a life where I had to be constantly doing things like praising a dude's horde.So that made me feel better about myself.
You will show that thing to me and from now on, I will deal with them."I opened my eyes really wide and fluttered my eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry, I must've missed your coronation ceremony. Silly me.
All pain seemed to come with lots of blood, and lots of mental anguish, too. I already knew about that. Maybe that was the worst kind of pain, because nobody knew about it but you.
Andrea: "....I think a dog is a great idea. I just never pictured you with a mutant poodle.” Kate: “He isn’t a poodle. He’s a Doberman mix."Andrea: “Aha. Keep telling yourself that.
As I drove out the wrought iron gates I had entered, I noticed for the first time how intricate and beautiful they were. They were forged by hand so many years ago and had stood the test of time.
Do you remember the time, Mike, ” Jeremy laughed, “that you put a banana down your pants and walked up to the Palma-nator. It looked like you had one hell of a hard-on.
Secret to what?""Secret to shutting you up, " he said. "I just have to beat you till you're half-dead, then give you chicken soup and"--he raised his hands--"blessed silence.