He held out his hand to Sophie, just like Mrs. Pentstemmon, but a little less royally. Sophie levered herself up, wondering if she was meant to kiss this hand or not. But since she felt more like raising her stick and beating the King over the head with it, she shook the King's hand and gave a creaking little curtsy.
Diana Wynne Jones
Knowing constancy, the mind is open. With an open mind, you will be openhearted. Being openhearted you will act royally. Being royal, you will attain the divine. Being divine, you will be at one with the Tao. Being at one with the Tao is eternal. Though the body dies, the Tao will never pass away.
It's irrational to assume you can ever truly evaluate yourself as a good or bad human being. You will never have enough information.That "bad person" at work who torments you might be an excellent father to his kids. That other "bad person" at work who screwed up royally today? That error might later lead to a huge breakthrough. We will never have enough info to holistically evaluate a person and score them in totality as "bad" or "good."
David D. Burns
God help me, how Tolstoy sweats over drying up people's sources of life, of wild and joyful life, drying them up and making the world fat with the love of God and everyman... But the man is old, after all, his fountains of life run dry, without a trace remaining of human affections... Only someone who has become slow and watertight with old age, satiated and hardened with pleasure, will go to youth and say, Renounce!... And yet the youth renounces nothing, but sins royally for forty years. Such is the course of nature!
I break out laughing. I frown. I yell and scream. Sometimes, if one jokes and giggles, one causes war. So I hide how tickled I am. Tears well up in my eyes. My body is a large city. Much grieving in one sector. I live in another part. Lakewater. Something on fire over here. I am sour when you are sour, sweet when you are sweet. You are my face and my back. Only through you can I know this back-scratching pleasure. Now people the likes of you and I come clapping, inventing dances, climbing into this high meadow. I am a spoiled parrot who eats only candy. I have no interest in bitter food. Some have been given harsh knowledge. Not I. Some are lame and jerking along. I am smooth and glidingly quick. Their road is full of washed-out places and long inclines. Mine is royally level, effortless. The huge Jerusalem mosque stands inside me, and women full of light. Laughter leaps out. It is the nature of the rose to laugh. It cannot help but laugh.
Grace was screwed. Royally screwed. As in, her career was over. Finished. Finite. She turned on the windshield wipers and slowed the car as she drove through the rain in the mountains. With a renewed grip on the steering wheel, she sent a quick prayer that the rain would stop. A little sprinkle she could handle. A storm... well, that was another matter entirely. She puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled. If only she was in Scotland for a holiday, but that wasn't the case at all. In a last-ditch effort to give her muse a good swift kick in the pants, Grace decided to travel to Scotland. All her friends thought she had lost her mind. Her editor thought it was just one more excuse in a very long line of them as to why she hadn't turned the book in. Grace wished she knew the reason the words just stopped coming. One day they were there, and the next... gone, vanished. Poof! Writing wasn't just her career. It was her life. Because within the words and pages she was able to write about heroines who had relationships she would never have. It was the sad truth, but it was the truth. Grace accepted her lot... in a way. She might realize the string of miserable dates were complete misses and admit that. However, the stories running through her head allowed her to dream as far as she could, and encounter men and adventures sitting behind a computer never would. Not being able to find the words anymore was like having someone steal her soul. She breathed a sigh of relief when the rain stopped and she was able to turn off her windshield wipers. In the two hours since she checked into the BandB, it hadn't stopped raining. Rain was a part of being in Scotland, and she was pushing herself with her fear of storms to be out in it as well. It proved how far she would go to find her soul again. She needed to write, to sink into another world where she could find happiness and a love that lasted forever. Now she was armed with her laptop and steely determination. She would find her muse again. Just as soon as she found the right place. The scenery along the highway was stunning, but the noise of the passing vehicles would be too much. Grace needed somewhere off the beaten path. Somewhere she could pretend she was the only person left in the world.