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Limbo Quotes

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Limbo Quotes

“Middle School is such a perfect name for middle school. If I were told that there was a commission for nationwide title submissions for the grades between elementary and high and a committee was appointed to boil down the entries in search of a name that was simple, public friendly, easy to spell, syllabically chantable (Mid-dle-school! Mid-dle-school!) devoid of possible copyright infringement, and most importantly, evocative of the emotion of being In Limbo, and Middle School was the out and out winner, I would believe that.”

“The Storm Stranger by Stewart Stafford Were I to shed forty coats, Or forty layers of this skin, I'd stay an intruder in myself, At a crossroads in a storm. Stranger in my own country, Pariah to everything beloved, Organ rejection by my own body, A lantern wanderer in limbo. All foul, cast out by my lamp, Saving those mistreating me, Traversing sanity's outer rings, I turn my collar up and trudge on. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“You think the final act of love is setting them free to Rainbow Bridge? That is not the final act of love. The final act of love is releasing them from your leash of grief so they can be free in the heaven on the other side of the Bridge. Until you resolve your grief, you bind them to you in the land between Heaven and Earth while they wait, suspended between the worlds, for you to heal. When you are free of your grief, they are free of your grief.”

“-A pesar de nuestros pobres esfuerzos, el limbo debe estar lleno de chinos, ¿no cree usted? -Ya, ¡ya! -Y los pequeñines, mujer, los que no saben andar, que estarán siempre parados como gusanines en el mismo sitio? -Verdaderamente. -Muchas gracias tenemos que dar a Dios por haber nacido españolas. Si hubiéramos nacido en China, a lo mejor nuestros hijos se iban al limbo sin remisión. ¡Tener hijos para eso! ¡Con lo que una sufre para tenerlos y con la guerra que dan de chicos! ¡Pobres hijas, qué ajenas están del peligro que corrieron! Menos mal que nacieron en España, ¡pero mire usted si llegan a nacer en China!”

“Možda nešto veliko, neponjantno preveliko, neka tiha vizija koju razumijevam sada skoro sveukupno rasapnut, nejasno nesvoj, nejak slučiti siže na shvatljivo i mnogo manje slobodan od njegove sadržine sasvim se maknuti; ja osjetim da više nisam ja. Možda nikada to nisam ni bio, ali ćutim, obuhvaćam, dotičem se spoznaje da i ako ima rastrovljenja, ono malne mora da je u neposrednom prepoznavanju vlastitih niskosti, prihvaćanju krivde pa i kad ne znamo iznaći što to bivanje jest, kud li rastrovljenje, kamoli krivda. I ja se nalazim u sivo-mlačnoj sobici bazdećoj po oporo oštroj bolesti gdje miruješ u svojoj bljedoplavoj haljini sa cvjetovima šarovito kičeroznim; osjet u meni je izvoran, stid je gusto neprobojan, gotovo me je strah dizati pogleda prema tebi, tvojemu licu okrunjenom bljedilom kuhinjskoga prozora. Mjesto tebe, u pod gledam, u pločice, postiđen uopće ti se obraćati, biti kraj tebe makar u predstanju pa i ako sam cijeloga života najviše htio baš ovdje uz tebe se nalaziti. “Dogodilo se da si umrla. A sve što sam postigao, najviše na prevaru, uvjeravajući ljude da sam ono što nisam, dižući na tome cijeli svoj život, sve se počelo urušavati baš isti dan kad sam dobio vijest o tebi. Osjećao sam se raspadnut. Najniži. Sjećam se samo da nisam više imao snage...” I sjećam se da si sjedila skoro i ne slušajući tako savršeno smirena, shvaćajući zaista i najniže gmizavce kakav sam ja, kao hrid kojega zapljuskuju tanahni valovi, zeleno-prozirni u odsustvu svjetla, odolijevala si mojim opravdanjima i bijednim mojim nenijama sasvim neusiljeno, sve da nisi pokazivala ni grote ljutnje - tek se suverenosti jedne dosjećam, udaljenosti, dostojne nedodirljivosti, a nakraju i tvoga šapta: “Ali si se usudio.” “Čuj me... Nije tako. To ipak nisam ja...”

“Pye turned his paw over and chewed his claws. “Humph. What you think of me is none of my business.” “You don’t know, do you?” “Know more than you . . . Know what?” “You are dead.” Pye patted his paws. “No, I’m not.” He rolled on his back and stretched, enjoying the warmth of the fire. “I’ve been here since 1665.” Pye chuckled. “You are, if I may so, in remarkably good condition.” Apart from the hole in your head, missing tail, and pulmonic plague cough. “I’ve seen them come. Seen them go. Seem them hang around in limbo. That’s what it’s called when beings don’t leave this Earth.” “Purgatory!” “I am responsible for many deaths,” Rita said. “You!?” “They couldn’t build the graves fast enough to bury the bodies.” “I don’t understand how a mere stump-tailed fur ball could endanger life.” “If I were you I'd think that.” A silence followed before Rita said, “I did not work alone.” “Oh?”

“When I came out into the outside room again, I saw her shoe still lying there, where it had come off in the course of our brief wrestle. It looked so pathetic there by itself without an owner, it looked so lonely, it looked so empty. Something made me pick it up arid take it in to her. Like when someone's going away, you help them on with their coat, or their jackboots, or whatever it is they need for going away. I didn't try to put it back on her, I just set it down there beside her close at hand. You're going to need this, I said to her in my mind. You're starting on a long walk. You're going to keep walking from now on, looking for your home. I stopped and wondered for a minute if that was what happened to all of us when we crossed over. Just keep walking, keep on walking, with no ahead and no in-back-of; tramps, vagrants in eternity. With our last hope and horizon - death - already taken away. In the Middle Ages they had lurid colors, a bright red hell, an azure heaven shot with gold stars. They knew where they were, at least. They could tell the difference. We, in the Twentieth, we just have the long walk, the long walk through the wispy backward-stringing mists of eternity, from nowhere to nowhere, never getting there, until you're so tired you almost wish you were alive again. ("Life Is Weird Sometimes" - first chapter of unpublished novel THE LOSER)”

“The hardest part of letting go is the "uncertainty"--when you are afraid that the moment you let go of someone you will hate yourself when you find out how close you were to winning their affection. Every time you give yourself hope you steal away a part of your time, happiness and future. However, once in a while you wake up to this realization and you have to hold on tightly to this truth because your heart will tear away the foundation of your logic, by making excuses for why this person doesn't try as much as you. The truth is this: Real love is simple. We are the ones that make it complicated. A part of disconnecting is recognizing the difference between being desired and being valued. When someone loves you they will never keep you waiting, give their attention and affection away to others, allow you to continue hurting, or ignore what you have gone through for them. On the other hand, a person that desires you can't see your pain, only what they can get from you with minimal effort in return. They let you risk everything, while they guard their heart and reap the benefits of your feelings. We make so many excuses for the people we fall in love with and they make up even more to remain one foot in the door. However, the truth is God didn't create you to be treated as an option or to be disrespected repeatedly. He wants you to close the door. If someone loves you and wants to be in your life no obstacle will keep them from you. Remember, you are royalty, not a beggar.”

“In Dante’s Inferno, Dante and his guide Virgil visited the Castle of Limbo, in the center of which was an idyllic green meadow. This was where the great pagan souls, the virtuous pagans, spent eternity. Limbo was a place of calm contemplation and tranquility. Its denizens were not tormented and tortured but left to their own devices. They could converse with one another among green fields and scenic towers. The most illustrious of them radiated an inner light, reflecting their genius. Even the Abrahamic God was dazzled by the enlightened pagans, the great heroes of philosophy, art, poetry, science and mathematics. No one can quench their light, and no one can remove their joy.”

“I think now that maybe true sweetness can only happen in limbo. I don't know why. Is it because we are so unsure, so tentative and waiting? Like it needs that much room, that much space to expand. The not knowing anything really, the hoping, the aching transience: This is not real, not really, and so we let it alone, let it unfold lightly. Those times that can fly.”

“When you learn how to trust your feelings then you'll know how to recognize it - That part of you that needs no healing is like a swollen river rising. So choke me with a violent passion and drown me in a deep emotion. You've got to help me build this feeling. I'm swimming in a stagnant ocean. Been blinded by smoke and mirrors and crippled by a fear of tomorrow. If you don't help me shake this feeling, then I'll be marking time in Limbo.”

“Never have I enjoyed youth so thoroughly as I have in my old age. In writing Dialogues in Limbo, The Last Puritan, and now all these descriptions of the friends of my youth and the young friends of my middle age, I have drunk the pleasure of life more pure, more joyful than it ever was when mingled with all the hidden anxieties and little annoyances of actual living. Nothing is inherently and invincibly young except spirit. And spirit can enter a human being perhaps better in the quiet of old age and dwell there more undisturbed than in the turmoil of adventure.”

“Drop the last year into the silent limbo of the past. Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can go.”

“Here's how I became myself: mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading; limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment, and endless conversations with my best women friends; the loss of people without whom I could not live, the loss of pets that left me reeling, dizzying betrayals but much greater loyalty, and overall, choosing as my motto William Blake's line that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love.”

“When you are not happy where you are, and you are not quite sure if you want to leave or how to leave, you are in the meantime. Its a state of limbo. You are hanging on, ready to let go, afraid to fall, not wanting to hurt yourself, afraid you will hurt someone else. In the meantime, you pray the other person will let go first so that you will not feel guilty.”