A Quote by Wallace Stevens
Like the Sweetness of Gardenias Mother, you died 15 years ago. pain, a rapier, cut until, finally, there was just peace like the sweetness of gardenias in the crystal vase on your yellow kitchen table. so fragrant. your voice lingers in my ear reminding, scolding, guiding a pleasant mantra of tenderness, magic words that move my palms, your palms. together we are molding, helping, creating. in the mirror I see your eyes, your beautiful brown circles looking back, so radiant. "don't forget me," you whispered the day you died. I won't.
Quote Topics
Back
Beautiful
Brown
Circles
Creating
Crystal
Cut
Day
Died
Don't Forget Me
Ear
Eyes
Finally
Forget
Forget Me
Guiding
Helping
Just
Kitchen
Kitchen Table
Like
Looking
Looking Back
Magic
Magic Words
Mantra
Me
Mirror
Molding
Mother
Move
Pain
Palms
Peace
Pleasant
Radiant
Reminding
Scolding
See
Sweetness
Table
Tenderness
Together
Until
Vase
Voice
Words
Years
Years Ago
Yellow
Your
Your Beautiful
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Related Quotes
When you're in young love your pulse pounds, your palms sweat, and there are butterflies in your stomach. It's like diarrhea for your heart.
And if you had no tongue, no celebrating language, you’d do this: cross your hands at the wrist with palms facing towards you; place your crossed wrists over your heart (the middle of your chest, anyway); then move your hands outwards a short distance, and open them towards the object of your love. It’s just as eloquent as speech.
It shall be my pleasure to remedy it. First, it is not your strength or your speed that draws me. It's your...everything. Your laugh, your wit, your emotions and the way they change. Your courage, your sweetness, your near obsessive delight in cookies. Second, you are indeed a prize. You've made me want what no one else ever had. A communion of bodies." -Zacharel to Annabelle
You can be up to your boobies in white satin, with gardenias in your hair and no sugar cane for miles, but you can still be working on a plantation.
Self-love grows when you trust that the universe is on your side, form your desires from the heart and watch the higher Self carry them out, believe that you are enough in and of yourself, heed the tenderness and sweetness of your love for others, put your attention on positive energies in every situation, honor your own needs without having to seek outside approval, and cultivate the peace of inner silence.
I hope you never hear those words. Your mom. She died. They are different than other words. They are too big to fit in your ears. They belong to some strange, heavy, powerful language that pounds away at the side of your head, a wrecking ball coming at you again and again, until finally, the words crack a hole large enough to fit inside your brain. And in so doing, they split you apart.
Go with the pain, let it take you. Open your palms and your body to the pain. It comes in waves like the tide and you must be open as a vessel lying on the beach, letting it fill you up and then, retreating, leaving you empty and clear.
Lift up your eyes upon
This day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For a new beginning.
Do you wake up in the morning and first thing, centre yourself by looking at your palms together? Thereby have a nice day.
Love is like a lighthouse, a beacon in the dark. When you lose the path that lights your way, you feel that you have died, but I assure you, you have not. You are reaching out for help or you would not have found this page. So red these quotations, allow yourself to feel your pain and cry out your loss and anguish. As you let it go, you will find the strength and courage to put your relationship in perspective and move on.
The pages and the words are my world, spread out before your eyes and for your hand to touch. Vaguely, I can see you face looking down into me, as I look back. Do you see my eyes?
As long as you cling to your self, you will wander right and left, day and night, for thousands of years; and when, after all that effort, you finally open your eyes, you will see your self, through inherent defects, wandering round itself like the ox in a mill; but, if, once freed of your self, you finally get down to work, this door will open to you within two minutes.
Very well, but remember this... I'll be looking at you when you're laid on the cross and the twelve blows are crashing down on your limbs. When the crowd is finally tired of your screams and wandered home, I will climb up through your blood and sit beside you. I will look deep into your eyes... and drop by drop I will trickle my disgust into them like burning acid until... finally... you perish.
Your life, your soul, your world. They cannot kill it. Look at me, I’ve died but I opened my eyes again.
You will never ever be successful until you turn your pain into greatness, until you allow your pain to push you from where you are to push you to where you need to be. Stop running from your pain and embrace your pain. Your pain is going to be a part of your prize, a part of your product. I challenge you to push yourself.
Live your life like you're 80 looking back on your teenager years. You know if your dad calls you at eight in the morning and asks if you want to go out for breakfast. As a teenager you're like no, I want to sleep. But as an eighty year old looking back you have that breakfast with your dad. It just little things like that, that helped me when I was a teenager in terms of making choices you won't regret.
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