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Quote by Tessa Hadley

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Late in the Day

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Tessa Hadley

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“1 prefer scotch to Irish. And I plough my own garden. There is this music in the mud, mulching the pains of weed. They need to grow have you ever wondered? My mother was born in a hut, my daughter in a hospital what a transition, there was a time I was under the bridge, with green shoots of wars flandering, my head ringing. And after that, there is woman, a woman with topaz eyes died in the winter of the sun, some dull evening. made love with her soul, now in my blood she lives what a cost. Under certain smiles and growing madness... I have trouble to sleep I have chose to study Latin, and practice the virtues of stoicism and the principle of Moses.”

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“We see that in life it is necessary to grieve those things that no longer serve us and let them go. We experience conflicts, loved ones die or suffer, dreams never manifest, illnesses occur, relationships break up, and there are unexpected natural disasters. It is so important to have ways to release those pains to keep clearing ourselves. Hanging on to old pain just makes it grow until it smothers our creativity, our joy, and our ability to connect with others.”

PainGriefGrieving
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“There are two ways, however, to remember an event. One is by reliving it, allowing the pain, anger, fear, or bitterness to consume or control us. We can even become self-righteous toward others as we harbor the wounds. The other way of remembering is to allow God's process of forgiveness to be activated in our lives. Painful events are a fact of history. They happened, but they no longer control us.”

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“How we used to fetishize and differentiate our feelings. Rage! Hatred! Hunger! Pride! Jealousy! Ambition! Lust! We had a name for everything. But that colourful cavalcade of emotions was just a sham. It was all pain—all of it—all along. Rage was pain, hate was pain, pride was pain, lust was pain. All that's different now is that where pain used to have the luxury of being a bit of a drama queen and playing dress up, now it stands out there on the corner of Birchin Lane, quivering and naked.”

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