Friday, November 30, 2012

friday thoughts.

it's friday and the beautiful rain is still falling and the playful wind is still breezing. this is my kind of weather. it pulls me back into a sense of reflection, wonder, and thought. and so a lineup of quotes i've saved that i like, that cause me to think, and are fit for a rainy day. 
you are mysterious, i love you. you're beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that's the rarest known combination. f. scott fitzgerald [swoon. i'd die for someone to say that about me.]
yes: i am a dreamer. for a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world. oscar wilde [i think by way of oscar wilde's definition, i, too, am a dreamer.]
images courtesy of 1, 2, 3
i've been taught that love is beautiful and kind, but it isn't like that at all. it is beautiful, but it's a terrible beauty, a ruthless one, and you fall -- you fall, and the thing is -- the thing is you want to. you don't care what's coming, you just want who your heart beats for. elizabeth scott, the unwritten rule [this is so true. so very true.]
make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do. j.d. salinger
i see when men love women. they give them but a little of their lives. but women, when they love, give everything. oscar wilde 
the things she most wanted to tell him would lose their meaning the moment she put them into words. haruki murakami [also very true. i've had this happen to me countless times. i've wanted to tell my man something, but when i try to put it into words, words fail. thus, i remain quiet. and quiet isn't bad. some things were meant to be said. others were not. and sometimes it's scary to not say those words; to try and identify those things that aren't meant to be said aloud. but there is often more reward in the things that aren't said.]
you expected to be sad in the fall. part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. but you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. when the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason. ernest hemingway, a moveable feast [but i love this time of year. i love the cold, wintery light and rains. it brings a different sense of life than the spring.]
i hope you live a life you're proud of. if you find that you're not, i hope you have the strength to start all over again. f. scott fitzgerald [i wonder if i have that kind of strength...]
home is the result of intersecting lives. it is the secondary color created by individuals in relationships... yes, home is the landscape of people, places, and things upon which we live out life -- but it is mostly about people. that is why home can be a suburban neighborhood, or a struggling farm, or a ship at sea, or a war-torn nation. after all, home is where hearts are. austin sailsbury in kinfolk magazine, volume v: in search of home
one of the deepest feminine pleasures is when a man stands full, present, and unreactive in the midst of his woman's emotional storms. when he stays present with her, and loves her through the layers of wildness and closure, then she feels his trustability, and she can relax... osho [yes. oh yes.]
why, darling, i don't live at all when i'm not with you. ernest hemingway, a farewell to arms [swoon.]
she was feeling the pressure of the world outside and she wanted to see him and feel his presence beside her and be reassured that she was doing the right thing after all. f. scott fitzgerald, the great gatsby. [i've been there needing those same reassurances.]
you see that girl staring into space? if you were to ask what's wrong, she would say nothing, when in reality it's everything. she's sitting there wondering what she did wrong, what she could have done differently, how she would have changed it if she had the chance. and if she had the chance to go back and do it over again, would it end with the same result? that's why she stares. (source unknown.) [i've been that girl. sometimes i still am.]
the real love is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead. marilyn monroe. [i love forehead kisses. they make me feel safe and secure, truly loved.] 
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