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Write Quotes

“If you fail an examination, it means you have not yet master the subject. With diligent study and understanding, you will succeed in passing the exams.”

“Upon reading, great stories by Great Spirits, the glorious inspiration penetrated our soul; we can’t help but to shed tears. It was a soul soothing and a deep spiritual awaken.”

“THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNER The man in the corner Is dying with words He's crying to be heard His days are marked And his only ears are birds He knows the secret to peace And his experience bleeds and hurts Somebody stop and listen Before he departs the earth! Somebody write his thoughts Before he hits the turf! His eyes are closing their shutters And he just dropped his Beads and stick. His breath is leaving us. Please! Somebody hear him out quick! A little girl rushes to him and Picks up his cane of wood. The old man then turns to her And faintly whispers, "The key to peace is To always stay fair And be good.”

“The real thing that got me thinking were his female characters. Beatrice... Rosalind... Viola... Portia. They were feminists long before there was ever a woman's movement. But Shakespeare, in real life, had two daughters that he never educated. They didn't even know how to write their own names." Melina shook her head. "I just can't believe a man who created such iconic women in his plays wouldn't want his daughters to have the same rights.”

“Don't spend your life believing a story about yourself that you didn't write that's been fed to you - that simply you've accepted, embedded and added to. Let the story go and there beneath is the real you...and your unique gifts, heart and path that await you.”

“Handle with care. Me. You. All we do. It doesn't mean do everything for anyone or something for everyone but it does mean to do it the most care-fully you are able. I strive for that each moment-- fail miserably much of the time, but still try-- whether work, play loving, writing-- to do it as care-fully as I might-- for myself and those I love, yes, but also for the ripple effects-- the butterfly-wing-flapping effects-- in places unknowable and unknown.”

“Each sentence as it is written is written to lead us to a place of silence. The silence that follows each sentence should endure as long as it has taken you to read the sentence. This silence is different from white space. Silence should fill your body, not simply remain on the page. Your body needs to experience the space between. Silence needs to mark you.”

“As I walk down the streets that remained the witness of our love, I hear several voices calling out your name. People laugh at the way I smile, they act odd when I talk and walk through the woods with you, their eyes behave insane. Two of them didn't closed the door as I followed your voice through the areca trees. I heard them discussing 'black magic'. They don't believe my insanity for you, they dont believe the love I hear in those moist leaves. Even though you are not with me, I often sit here and write our story under that tree but with no stain words on the pages . I go home with the silences. The silence of the final goodbye..”

“For what was it about books that once finished left the reader in a bit of a haze and made them reread the last few sentences in order to continue the ringing in their hearts a while longer, so as not to let the silence illumine the fact that reading, they had gained something — distance, a lesson, a companion, a new world — but now, after the last full stop, they had lost something palpable and felt a little emptier than before.”

“You kissed me that morning as if you’d never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains tight around my chest, and if you see a fire from the shore tonight it’s my chains going up in flames.”

“A poetess is not as selfish as you assume. After months of agonising over her marriage of words—the bride— and spaces—the groom, she knows that as soon as she has penned the poem, it’s yours to consume. So, without giving it a think, she blows on the ink and the letters fly away like dandelions on a windy day, landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips. But more often than not, you can easily spot them trodden and forgotten, becoming sodden and rotten. Yet, she will continue to make what’s others to take because selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.”