A Quote by Richard Harris

I swim in a pool of my own neurosis. I carry love, grief deeply, like an Irishman. — © Richard Harris
I swim in a pool of my own neurosis. I carry love, grief deeply, like an Irishman.
Our pool is outdoors, but it's heated, and I've got one of those machines that produces waves you have to swim against; like a jogging treadmill, really, only it's in water. Basically, it means you can have a small pool, swim for miles, and get nowhere.
In the spirit of debunking racial stereotypes, the one that black people don't like to swim, I'm going to tell you how much I love to swim. I love to swim so much that as an adult, I swim with a coach.
I love going for a swim. Growing up in England, anywhere with a pool seems like the height of glamour to me.
The interesting thing about grief, I think, is that it is its own size. It is not the size of you. It is its own size. And grief comes to you. You know what I mean? I’ve always liked that phrase “He was visited by grief,” because that’s really what it is. Grief is its own thing. It’s not like it’s in me and I’m going to deal with it. It’s a thing, and you have to be okay with its presence. If you try to ignore it, it will be like a wolf at your door.
Outdoors, I have a pool, so I usually swim and stuff. It's usually superhot in California, so we swim.
There's a moment when love makes you believe in death for the first time. You recognize the one whose loss, even contemplated, you'll carry forever, like a sleeping child. All grief, anyone's grief...is the weight of a sleeping child.
I took a job at the pool in order to earn the five cents a day it cost to swim. I counted wet towels. As a bonus, I was allowed to swim during lunchtime.
It's very important to older male homosexuality in Los Angeles to have a pool, so that cute boys will come to your house and swim around in the pool.
Grief is real because loss is real. Each grief has its own imprint, as distinctive and as unique as the person we lost. The pain of loss is so intense, so heartbreaking, because in loving we deeply connect with another human being, and grief is the reflection of the connection that has been lost. We think we want to avoid the grief, but really it is the pain of the loss we want to avoid. Grief is the healing process that ultimately brings us comfort in our pain.
I've always wanted to like, swim in a swimming pool filled with peanut butter
Let an idea swim to the surface like a fish in a pool...let the mind drift to the vision.
My parents wanted us to be pool-safe, so I had lessons when I was 18 months old. I would like to share with all the parents out there that I was that kid who cried during every one of my lessons. But it wasn't an option for my parents; we had a backyard pool, so I needed to learn how to swim.
to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you've held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs; when grief weights you like your own flesh only more of it, an obesity of grief, you think, How can a body withstand this? Then you hold life like a face between your palms, a plain face, no charming smile, no violet eyes, and you say, yes, I will take you I will love you, again.
When I graduated college, I remember all I really wanted was to make enough money to have a swimming pool, because I love to swim, to grow my own fruit. I wanted to have a little plot where I could grow my own oranges and make enough money where I could to take two weeks off a year. I figured if I had that, it was game over.
I do pool exercises, like weightlifting but underwater. I walk, I swim... I'm pretty fit for an old bloke.
Grief causes you to leave yourself. You step outside your narrow little pelt. And you can’t feel grief unless you’ve had love before it - grief is the final outcome of love, because it’s love lost. […] It’s the cycle of love completed: to love, to lose, to feel grief, to leave, and then to love again. Grief is the awareness that you will have to be alone, and there is nothing beyond that because being alone is the ultimate final destiny of each individual living creature. That’s what death is, the great loneliness.
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