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“And they say, if ever a traveler plucks the wild parsley, and takes the bark of the hazel tree, and the secret toadstools, and mixes them with crocus from the patch of forest where the hero's last bones lie, a powerful spell will come to life. The hero will be reborn, not as he was before his destruction, but many times stronger in body and spirit; for he will be filled with the strength of earth, sea, and air. I think of the seven of us as the parts of one body. We may be torn asunder, and it may seem as if there is no tomorrow for us. We may each travel our own path, and we may fall and be broken and mend again. But in the end, as surely as the sun and moon make their way across the arch of the heavens, the strength of one is the strength of seven.”

“To the Angels, and all that is good in this world, I pray that my son will be strong. He will find the strength to stand up to his father, and he will learn forgiveness in that strength. He will find his love and never let go, no matter what force may forbid them. I pray that love will meet and it will prevail, that it will climb to the highest peak and not fall to it’s death. It will stand high and strong, and no matter the storms that come its way, will never crack or splinter or break. I promise myself and all that I care about, that this will be so.”

“A woman or man of value doesn’t love you because of what he or she wants you to be or do for them. He or she loves you because your combined souls understand one another, complements each other, and make sense above any other person in this world. You each share a part of their soul's mirror and see each other’s light reflected in it clearly. You can easily speak from the heart and feel safe doing so. Both of you have been traveling a parallel road your entire life. Without each other's presence, you feel like an old friend or family member was lost. It bothers you, not because you have given it too much meaning, but because God did. This is the type of person you don't have to fight for because you can't get rid of them and your heart doesn't want them to leave anyways.”

“He made it very clear that he didn’t want me here,” she said at last. “That my remaining at the Institute is not the happy chance I thought it was. Not in his view.” “And after I just finished telling you why you should consider him family,” Jem said, a bit ruefully. “No wonder you looked as if I’d just told you something awful just happened.” “I’m sorry,” Tessa whispered. “Don’t be. It’s Will who ought to be sorry.” Jem’s eyes darkened. “We shall throw him out onto the streets,” he proclaimed. “I promise you he’ll be gone by morning.” Tessa started and sat upright. “Oh – no, you can’t mean that─” He grinned. “Of course I don’t. But you did feel better for a moment there, didn’t you?”

“THE UNFORGIVEN Tell me if you've ever had to deal with these kinds of people: The kind who take and don't give. The kind to whom you give and give, And they keep asking. The kind to whom you give and give and they say you gave nothing. The kind whom have never offered anything, But act like they're the ones providing EVERYTHING. The kind you give and give, But take more than you can give. And when they have already taken everything, They get mad at you when you say you have Nothing more to give. The unforgiving, The misgiving, Wastefully living - And selfishly driven. The rat that never gives back, Yet is so quick to attack - Because they think the word TAKING Seriously means GIVING.”

“I asked Bill what career path he thought I should take, and he replied, “Live the artist’s life.” For years I pondered over his advice. What did it mean to “live the artist’s life?” I finally came to realize that there were no written codes, no hard and fast rules. You didn’t have to starve in a garret or drink yourself to death or cut off your ear. You didn’t even have to literally “make art” physically. The art was your life—your values, your outlook, your passions, your point of view. It was the things you cherished, whether they were people or places or ideas.”

“Many of us have gotten so used to playing to the expectations of society, of our families, of our friends, and of our minds, that we don’t even allow ourselves to consider who we really are or what we really need. We ignore the calls of our hearts, giving our lives, instead, to the demands of an outside world built on fitting in. We can stop this, right now. We can choose to listen to ourselves, to heed our deepest callings, whatever they are. We can give ourselves the freedom to be whoever the hell we want to be in this world. Right now, if we choose to. And why wouldn’t we?”

“The definition of pain on so many levels When your loved ones clearly see your pain mentally, physically and emotionally but choose not to acknowledge it When you're screaming but they choose not to hear When those who you thought cared could go days smiling without your presence When your absence is missed only because of what you do and not because of you When your kind heart and good intentions are never recognised And lastly when you can give everything and expect nothing but get pointed at for every other mistake that was made.”

“New generation tends to be independent, weak moral values dependent on feedback from others rather than immediate family – seeks wide circle of support from friends – although there is no guarantee of that.” “নতুন প্রজন্ম স্বাধীন হওয়ার প্রবণতা রাখে, দুর্বল নৈতিক মূল্যবোধগুলি তাৎক্ষণিক পরিবারের চেয়ে অন্যদের প্রতিক্রিয়ার উপর নির্ভর করে – বন্ধুদের কাছ থেকে ব্যাপক সমর্থন চায় – যদিও এর কোন নিশ্চয়তা নেই।”

“I slumped in the chair. I'd known it was coming. Absolutely no doubt. You know. I'd been feeling sick about it for weeks. So, why did I now feel even sicker? Love. Not a word for casual use. The life-scarred use the word with extreme caution. If you're lucky, you go through life being held up by people loving you. But you don't know you're being held up. You think you're buoyant. You think the buoyancy came first, the love is a bonus you get for being buoyant. And that can go on for a long time. But then one day, the love isn't there anymore and you're sinking, waving arms and sinking, all the old sources of love gone, the newer ones turn out to be fickle. They move on. No one to hold you up, you're just a skinny boy, all ribs, knees, and feet, out in the deep water, can't touch bottom.”