Andrew Davidson may refer to:
All history is just one man trying to take something away from another man, and usually it doesn't really belong to either of them.
There was a brief moment of weightlesssness: a balancing point between air and earth, dirt and heaven. How strange, I thought, how like the moment between sleeping and falling when everything is beautifully surreal and nothing is corporeal. How like floating towards completion. But as often happens in that time between existing in the world and fading into dreams, this moment over the edge ended with the ruthless jerk back to awareness.
With every fragment of rock that fall from me, I can hear the voice of Marianne Engle. I love you. Aishiteru. Ego amo te. Ti amo. Eg elska pig. Ich liebe dich. It is moving across time, coming to me in every language of the world, and it sounds like pure love.
If you cannot love the pain, you can at least love the lessons it teaches
Perhaps there are just some things you leave behind when you choose a new life.
Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, often violently, just like love.
If you listen to the wind very carefully, you'll be able to hear me whisper my love for you.
Things should be judged by distance traveled rather than by current position.
The true master knows that if he had a God he could understand, he would never hold Him to be God.
It doesn't matter how fast you move, I learned, if you never go anywhere.
Vanity is both a great motivator and a great deceiver.
Love is an action you must repeat ceaselessly.
There's a gentle sigh which descends like billowing silk upon the soul that accepts its coming death. It's a gentle pocket of air in the turbulence of everyday life. . . the silk settles around you as if it has been drifting towards the earth forever and has finally found it's target. The flag of defeat has been mercifully dropped and, in this action, the loss is not so bad. Defeat itself is defeated by the embrace of defeat, and death is swallowed up in victory.
Love is as strong as death, as hard as hell.
I envy all suffering, because suffering is necessary to become spiritually beautiful.
Only a man unable to handle the actual world would create another one in which to hide.
Who would have guessed that the monster of fraud was a democracy?
You'll swoop from incredible highs when you're just glad to be alive, to those lows when you wish you were dead. And just when you start thinking that you've accepted who you are, that changes, too. Because who you are is not permanent