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Quote by Kate Bowler

“I remember clearly in the hospital how I felt this strange closeness with God, how I did not feel like dry grass. I was becoming less and less, but I becoming less and less, but I was not reduced to nothing God's love was everywhere, sticking to everything. Love was in my husband's hand on my back, steadying me, a lightness under my feet, all over Zach's velvety wars. I flushed with embarrassment when I described this feeling to my friends, stumbling as I tried to explain its sudden appearance (Wasn't it there before?), that love itself was suddenly more real to me than my own thoughts. Despair was never far away, but somehow the seams of the universe had come undone, and all the splendid, ragged edges were showing. And they brought me close than I've e ed been to the truth of this experiment— living— and how the horror and the beauty of it feels almost blinding.”

Quote by Kate Bowler

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Kate Bowler

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“She hated flowers, and I wondered why That was; When diamonds less radiant Diminished her gloom, And she delighted in the fragrance of her favorite perfume. She hated that they withered and faded, I thought; That their petals broke loose, And they barely hung on. She hated that they were thrown away, With every trace of them gone. They were delicate and fragile like her, I’d say; The kind of thing She felt so undeserving of. It’s such taxing work for the weary, Simply to nurture and love. She clung to her own greenness and vigor, I thought. Exquisite as they were, They brought too much sorrow; She detested caring for those that, Would not need her tomorrow. She was too oppressed to provide refuge, I found. I heard heartbreaking stories, Where she had it rough. She did the best she could, I know, But it was just never enough. She is every bit like the flowers, You know, Warms your vulnerable heart, With kindness and grace; Brings happy tears to your eyes, And the most joyful smile to your face! She regales like a queen, and she stuns, I say; And I love her, As I do those flowers she hates! Some have penetrable walls, you know; She has padlocked iron gates.”

LoveFearLossGriefBeautySadnessDyingFlowersNurturing
Author:Kyrian Lyndon
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“I don't trust my own answers anymore. I'm too twisted up with rage, too hooked in the millennium. But I find myself combing the past these days, dreaming dreams without sleep, puzzling over any guys, the gay and the straight and the inbetween. Somewhere in there is a horror of love, and to try to kill the beast in them, they take it out on us. Which is not to say I don't chastise myself for halving the world into us and tbem. I know that the good guys aren't all gay, or the bad all straight. That is what I am sifting for, to know what a man is finally, no matter the tribe or gender.”

DeathDyingAngerRageAids
Book:Becoming a Man: Half a Life Story
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