Helen Keller said, “Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
Your heart plays a song like a broken music box, but nothing ever sounded quite so beautiful to me. Together, in the dance of wounded-wing swans we’ll rise above the ruins, melting into the golden light.
Children are God’s or nature’s practical joke on couples-that which is produced by passion then proceeds to nearly kill it.
How’re we getting to King’s Cross tomorrow, Dad?” asked Fred as they dug into a sumptuous pudding.
“The Ministry’s providing a couple of cars,” said Mr. Weasley.
Everyone looked up at him.
“Why?” said Percy curiously.
“It’s because of you, Perce,” said George seriously. “And there’ll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them-“
“-for Humongous Bighead,” said Fred.
Moreover, in conversations with women, men do most of the talking (Haas,
1979), and despite hackneyed stereotypes about women being more talkative
than men, we’re apparently used to this pattern. When people listen to record-
ings of conversations, they think it’s more disrespectful and assertive for a
woman to interrupt a m~ than vice versa (Lafrance, 1992).
Where can we
go if not to each other,
resenting every step?
I want my girls to see their relationship with me as a place of refuge, a place they can retreat to for honesty, unconditional love, and support. I want to teach them and have them trust me, not fear me. I want to preserve the gentle souls that I see in them.” -Liz. M.
Beryl, on death: “No, you should never choose death, but it chooses you. Sometimes you know it’s coming, like my mother, and sometimes it takes you by surprise, like my friend Ariel’s uncle who got killed in a hunting accident. Sooner or later, we all get chosen, we all get taken from this world into the next. Whether we end up in Heaven or Hell, and what we do with our lives in the meantime-those are the choices we get to make.
The size of one’s house might bear a relationship to the size of one’s opinion of oneself, but it had nothing to do with one’s real worth.
I finally made friends with my father when I entered my twenties. We had so little in common when I was a boy, and I am certain I had been a disappointment to him. He did not ask for a child with a book of its own world. He wanted a son who did what he had done: swam and boxed and played rugby, and drove cars at speed with abandon and joy, but that was not what he had wound up with.