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Quote by Dr. Nimit Oza

“જે છૂટી ગયું હોય કે છોડી દીધું હોય એને ક્લેઈમ કરવા ક્યારેય પાછા ન ફરવું. ભૂતકાળ બનેલી ક્ષણો પર દાવો કરવાથી ક્યારેક આપણે ફરી એ જ બેડીઓમાં પ્રવેશી જઈએ છીએ, જેમાંથી માંડ છુટકારો મેળવેલો. એ ક્ષણો ગમ્મે તેટલી સુખદ હોય, ભૂતકાળને ફરીથી જીવવાનો પ્રયત્ન કરવો મૂર્ખામી છે. કારણકે લાખ પ્રયત્નો પછી પણ એની એ જ ક્ષણોને આપણે ફરીથી જીવી નથી શકવાના. ભૂતકાળ ગમ્મે તેટલો પોકારે, એને પાછળ વળીને જોવાની ભૂલ ન કરવી. એ સુખદ યાદોને મનોમન ચૂમી લેવી અને આગળ વધવું.”

Quote by Dr. Nimit Oza

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Dr. Nimit Oza

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“Spring, is a time of re-growth and renewal. It is a time when one has more garden chores to do, such as planting new seedings in the vegetable and flower gardens. Also, a time of great activity, when the grass and weeds start to grow and need to be chopped back. There is no mistake, that a lot of people start new businesses, in spring and even get married in spring. It is a time of great promise and forward movement in life.” “So going back to the yellow flowers, they signify optimism, prosperity and action. So seeing and particularly going outside, when it is spring and spending time with the yellow flowers like the wattle and daffodils give one an increased optimism for the life and the coming season and helps people have more energy to go about the weekly jobs that spring most generously provides!”

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“My shrink suggested that if I was going to continue traveling so much that I could look into getting a service animal expressly trained to provide emotional support to people with anxiety disorders. I considered getting Hunter S. Thomcat trained, but then I remembered that he gets spontaneous nervous diarrhea every time he's in a moving car, and I'd imagine that holding a cat who seems to have explosive plane dysentery wouldn't necessarily *help* my anxiety as give me something new (and horribly unsanitary) to be anxious about. I called around to different service-animal specialists and spoke to a woman who told me it's better to get an animal who has already been trained and has the right temperament. She also told me cats aren’t preferred emotional-support animals for anxiety disorder, but my cats hate dogs so I figured I was fucked, but then she told me that the Americans with Disabilities Act was recently interpreted as allowing “people with anxiety disorders to travel with an emotional-support pony on airlines.” So basically I could bring a goddamn pony on board with me. I’m pretty sure a pony wouldn’t fit under my seat or in my lap, but I rather liked the idea of a small medicinal horse standing in the aisle beside me while I braided his mane. Plus, Pony Danza would make a great pack animal and instead of bringing suitcases I could just put my extra clothes on him and that way I wouldn’t have to pay to check a bag. Plus, the pony wouldn’t get cold because it would be wearing my pajamas.”

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Book:Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things
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“Alec is sitting deep in the saddle, holding the mare firmly between hand and leg, not letting her get away from him. After a couple of quick circles, she steadies her stride and gets into a proper rhythm, moving with ease and grace across the turf, turning easily and responding to Alec’s light aids. There’s not much muscle on her light frame, her neck is thin and held high, giving a slightly giraffe-like impression, and her unease shows in the slight roll of her eye. But I can see now, so easily, the pony she could be. I can imagine myself cantering her into the ring, her copper coat glistening in the sun and neatly pulled mane ruffling in the light breeze, her slender legs dancing across the grassy turf. I can feel my own legs against her sides, the thickness of rubber reins taut between my fingers. I hear the sound of the jostling crowd and know that all eyes are on us as we canter around the ring. We hold their attention and admiration as they watch us jump easily over the highest obstacles. In my mind, the chestnut pony’s neck is arched, tail proudly aloft, her dark eyes bright and full of life and enthusiasm.”

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“I’d looked around my room at the ribbons and sashes and rosettes hanging from the walls, at the photos of my ponies clearing the highest fences with me crouched in the saddle, a look of utter determination on my face. I’d made myself look hard at the pictures, at my legs swinging backwards over the fences, at my body lying low over my pony’s neck, my hands grasping at the reins as I turned them in mid-air. At the way that Teddy’s eyes were bulging as I pulled him around a tight turn, at the way the veins popped out on Buck’s lathered neck, at Springbok’s open mouth, dripping with foam. I’d looked hard at them all, and I hadn’t liked what I’d seen.”

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