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Quote by Abhijit Naskar

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Honor He Wrote: 100 Sonnets For Humans Not Vegetables

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Abhijit Naskar

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“You look... refreshed,' Lucien observed with a glance at Tamlin. I shrugged. 'Sleep well?' 'Like a babe.' I smiled at him and took another bite of food, and felt Lucien's eyes travel inexorably to my neck. 'What is that bruise?' Lucien demanded. I pointed with my fork at Tamlin. 'Ask him. He did it.' Lucien looked from Tamlin to me and then back again. 'Why does Feyre have a bruise on her neck from you?' he asked with no small amount of amusement. 'I bit her,' Tamlin said, not pausing as he cut his steak. 'We ran into each other in the hall after the Rite.' I straightened in my chair. 'She seems to have a death wish,' he went on, cutting his meat. The claws stayed retracted but pushed against the skin above his knuckles. My throat closed up. Oh, he was mad- furious at my foolishness for leaving my room- but somehow managed to keep his anger on a tight, tight leash. 'So, if Feyre can't be bothered to listen to orders, then I can't be held accountable for the consequences.' 'Accountable?' I sputtered, placing my hands flat on the table. 'You cornered me in the hall like a wolf with a rabbit!' Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright. 'While I might not have been myself, Lucien and I both told you to stay in your room,' Tamlin said, so calmly that I wanted to rip out my hair. I couldn't help it. Didn't even try to fight the red-hot temper that razed my senses. 'Faerie pig!' I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair. At the sight of Tamlin's growing smile, I left. It took me a couple of hours to stop painting little portraits of Tamlin and Lucien with pigs' features. But as I finished the last one- Two faerie pigs wallowing in their own filth, I would call it- I smiled into the clear, bright light of my private painting room. The Tamlin I knew had returned. And it made me... happy.”

“I blamed my problems on the education system because it kept me busy and required me to maintain some semblance of sobriety. I blamed my problems on the authorities because they drug tested me. I blamed my problems on the police because they kept me in check and held me accountable for my actions. The real irony was that it was probably these things that kept me alive.”

“In an earthbound perspective that excludes all consideration of God, there will be no day of reckoning. The good will die young, nice guys will finish last, and the murderers, rapists, and warmongers will never be held accountable for their actions. Humans will continue to be free to act like animals, biting and devouring one another. If there is no God, or Creator (no one outside the cycle) all our greatest feats and accomplishments will disappear when we die. Like chasing the wind, whatever we gain, we will eventually lose. Not only will we be forgotten when everyone we know dies, but even the greatest legacies will equate to nothing on the day that the sun burns out and the human race is no more.”

“If you subtract procrastination, you make room for accomplishment. The power of subtraction automatically leads to fulfillment. It makes you accountable to exercise your formula. This mathematical equation is a simple application to everyday life." Excerpt From: Sarah Voldeng. “The Art of an Enlightened Woman.” Apple Books.”

“A sure mark of maturity is to be painstakingly accountable at those times when we have stepped so far afield that we can't even see the field anymore. A second mark is to push aside the suffocating waves of pain, the rancid rot of shame, and the crushing press of humiliation in order to intentionally correct our actions and step back into the field. And the third mark of maturity is ruthlessly crafting and forcefully applying all of the corrections necessary within ourselves (despite whatever cost that might incur or pain it might cause) so that we never step out of the field again and in doing so never step all over ourselves or anyone else.”