I feel you girl cuz it's Jacks
She must have lost her mind sometime during the night because she wanted him to move closer. She wanted his hands on her. She wanted him holding her, restraining her, teaching her to fight. She didn’t care, as long as they were touching.
Imagine you’re a boxer, and on your first day in the ring you take one on your chin. It’s gonna hurt like fucking hell, but at year ten of being a boxer, you won’t be stopped by one punch. You’ll be able to absorb twelve rounds of getting beat the fuck down and come back the very next day and fight again. It’s not that the punch has lost power. Your opponents will be even stronger. The change has happened within your brain. You’ve calloused your mind.
"Love is not a thing one is able or not able to do based on some magic. Some chemistry. That is for plays. Love is determination. Love is a choice one makes. You take someone in marriage, and you choose to love them. You do not give yourself any other option. Because marriage is difficult. Full of pains. And the life of a royal is lonely. So you grab someone, and you hang on. You love, and you love hard because if you do not, you are lost."
“I never meant to kill him,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I need you to know that. I just saw you and saw what he was going to do. I only meant to stop him. I didn't know, I didn’t—”
Morana moved, her heart bleeding for him. Placing her hand on his arm, she straddled him, pulling his face into her chest and his body started to shake. “She left me alone with these monsters after that. She left me to fucking fend for myself with nobody. I wasn't a monster then. I was so fucking lost—”
He broke.
Morana held him through the pain, her own eyes tearing up as he cried in her arms.
What was going on?
Then, I watched as my world once again reformed and took on a new shape…
And he got down on one knee.
I was shaking, the air seeming to glimmer around me, a hazy wonderland where all your dreams actually came true, appearing right in front of my eyes.
“You’re not supposed to cry yet,” he teased, tracking the tears falling
Monroe-Lincoln.Kitabı okudu
VOINITSKY. (...) Only I shall not be refreshed by the storm. Day and night I feel suffocated by the though that my life has been irretrievably lost. I have no past - it has all been stupidly wasted on trifles - while the present is awful because it's so meaningless... My feeling for you is just wasted like a ray of sunlight falling into a well - and I am wasted too.
And one asks oneself where are one's dreams. And one shakes one's head and says how rapidly the years fly by! And again one asks oneself what has one done with one's years. Where have you buried your best days? Have you lived or not? Look, one says to oneself, look how cold the world is growing. Some more years will pass, and after them will come gloomy solitude; then will come old age trembling on its crutch, and after it misery and desolation. Your fantastic world will grow pale, your dreams will fade and die and will fall like the yellow leaves from the trees…. Oh, Nastenka! you know it will be sad to be left alone, utterly alone, and to have not even anything to regret—nothing, absolutely nothing … for all that you have lost, all that, all was nothing, stupid, simple nullity, there has been nothing but dreams!"
Şimdi “Hani hayaller?” diye sormaktan kendimi alamıyorum. Baş sallayıp: “Yıllar ne çabuk geçiyor…” demekten başka çare yok. Bu kez yeni bir soru karşınıza dikiliveriyor: “Peki ama, geçen yıllar, ömrün en iyi yılları ne olacak?.. Yaşadın mı, yoksa yalnızca yaşadığını mı sandın?.. ” İçinizdeki ses: “Bak, çevrende her şey nasıl gittikçe soğuyor…” demektedir. Umutsuzluk; yalnızlık içinde yıllar geçecek; sarsak ihtiyarlık bastonuna dayanarak karşınıza dikilecek. Her şey hüzüne, kedere bürünecek… Yaşadığınız o parlak dünya sönecek, hayaller, sarı yapraklar gibi bir bir dökülecek… Ah Nastenka, o zaman hem yapayalnız kalmak, hem de arkandan acıyacak bir şeyin olmadığını bilmek, –çünkü yitirdiklerinin hepsi değeri sıfır olan hayaller; ne kadar acı, değil mi?
Saga EgmontKitabı okudu
“Well, your imagination shapes your reality and here you are. Sitting there, thinking how broke you can be and then how a perfect angel-like person will come to save you. The problem with this is that you CHOOSE to believe that YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH to change your life all by yourself. You rely your hope on someone who doesn’t exist. And that’s why, when things don’t fall as per your imagination, you start feeling even more lonely as if you had something but you lost it.”
Your brain likes your old circuits, even when they lead you astray. That’s because electricity zipping down a well-worn pathway gives you the feeling that you know what’s going on. When you refuse to use your old pathways, you may feel lost. You may even feel like you’re threatening your own survival, though you’re doing precisely the opposite.
Sacred and Terrible Smell
What was that sacred and terrible, elusive smell in the air this time? My name is Ambrosius Saint-Miro, the locals call me “Ambrosius Pyhä-Mirä” and in Graad they call me “Svjata-Mira”. “Diduska?” they ask, their eyes wide with affection, but I answer them: “No. I am not your diduska.” I am Ambrosius Santa-Mira from Mesque, Ambrosio Hagiamira, I
Sayfa 60 - Unofficial English TranslationKitabı okudu
The fusion box
“It would be immoral not to fuse with Mercer in gratitude,” Iran said. “I had hold of the handles of the box today and it overcame my depression a little—just a little, not like this. But anyhow I got hit by a rock, here.” She held up her wrist; on it he made out a small dark bruise. “And I remember thinking how much better we are, how much better
Chapter 15Kitabı okudu
Hating me, it hurts you?
“What’s hate?” Gu Mang asked, lost.
“Look into my eyes. I hate that I can’t drink your blood, tear off your skin, and torture you to the brink with my own hands, make you suffer until you beg for death.” Mo Xi stared at him coldly as he enunciated each word. “That’s hate.”
Gu Mang stared hard into his eyes. They were very close, their eyes fixed on one another’s, their breaths mingling. Mo Xi found it inappropriate and was about to push him away, when he heard Gu Mang say, “But…you look like you’re in pain…like it really hurts.
“Hating me, it hurts you?”
Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.
So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?"
I tell him, "Real."
So in answering the question of whether what is lost comes back, I study the most beautiful examples. Did Yusuf return to his father? Did Musa return to his mother? Did Hajar return to Ibrahim? Did health, wealth and children return to Ayoub? From these stories we learn a powerful and beautiful lesson: what is taken by Allah is never lost. In fact, it is only what is with Allah that remains. Everything else vanishes. Allah (swt) says, “What is with you must vanish: what is with Allah will endure. And We will certainly bestow, on those who patiently persevere, their reward according to the best of their actions.” (Quran, 16:96)
Pdf
Geri Gelen Mektup şiiri -> Youtube Gülnur Kaya'dan dinlemenizi öneririm.
Ruhun mu ateş, yoksa o gözler mi alevden?
Bilmem bu yanardağ ne biçim korla tutuştu?
Pervane olan kendini gizler mi hiç alevden?
Sen istedin ondan bu gönül zorla tutuştu.
Is it your soul that is on fire, or are those eyes ablaze?
I don't know how this volcano ignited with such fervent embers.
Does a moth ever conceal itself from the
