I loved the way she survived. Survival looked good on her. There were no dark marks under her eyes. Maybe deep inside, but I liked the way she looked through them and laughed at life. She did it gracefully. She’d walk over glass and through fire, but still smiled.
…la vida valdrá la pena mientras haya en el mundo seres capaces de hacer magia cuando profesan una pasión.
I’ve never seen any life transformation that didn’t begin with the person in question finally getting tired of their own bullshit.
The most spiritual human beings, assuming they are the most courageous, also experience by far the most painful tragedies: but it is precisely for this reason that they honour life, because it brings against them its most formidable weapons.
The practice of courage is doing small things with love. We begin to dismantle what is overwhelming by beginning the journey of involvement one hand at a time, one kindness at a time, one utterance of truth at a time. From the outside, things that require courage seem impossible, but once we begin, we’re no longer on the outside. This lets us see more. This lets us feel the current of the situation we have to cross. Any small act of love shows us the next step to be taken. So it’s imperative to stop rehearsing the perfect starting point and just begin.
She was unstoppable. Not because she did not have failures or doubts, but because she continued on despite them.
The world is not respectable; it is mortal, tormented, confused, deluded forever; but it is shot through with beauty, with love, with glints of courage and laughter; and in these, the spirit blooms timidly and struggles to the light amid the thorns.
It’s okay to live a life others don’t understand.
Childhood feels so permanent, like it’s the entire world, and then one day it’s over and you’re shoveling wet dirt onto your father’s coffin, stunned at the impermanence of everything.
¿Creías que el mundo termina donde tú acabas?
Tú eres ya no fin, pero ni siquiera comienzo de ninguna cosa.
No eres comienzo ni de ti mismo.