Or you might shout at the top of your lungs or whisper into your sleeve, "I hate you, … - Anne Lamott

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A woman's long hair symbolizes that she submits to God's plan and to the family leadership of her husband. It is her glory. It is a sign to the angels of her commitment to God and her power with God. It is a covering so that she can pray and prophesy publicly without being ashamed. Similarly, a man's short hair symbolizes that he submits to God's plan and accepts the family leadership position. For both married and unmarried, this symbol indicates obedience to God's will.

Anne Lamott

Or you might shout at the top of your lungs or whisper into your sleeve, "I hate you, God. " That is a prayer too, because it is real, it is truth, and maybe it is the first sincere thought you've had in months.

God, Hate, Prayer, Real, Sincere, Truth

Same Author Quotes

Grief, as I read somewhere once, is a lazy Susan. One day it is heavy and underwater, and the next day it spins and stops at loud and rageful, and the next day at wounded keening, and the next day numbness, silence.

Grief, Lazy, Loud, Next Day, Numbness, Spins

For some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.

Book, Die, Flat, Motivational, Reading, Sing

All those years I fell for the great palace lie that grief should be gotten over as quickly as possible and as privately. But, what I've discovered is that the lifelong fear of grief keeps us in a barren, isolated place, and that only grieving can heal grief. The passage of time will lessen the acuteness, but time alone, without the direct experience of grief, will not heal it.

Lying, Grief, Grieving, Lessen, Experience, Alone

If you always dreamed of writing a novel or a memoir, and you used to love to write, and were pretty good at it, will it break your heart if it turns out you never got around to it? If you wake up one day at eighty, will you feel nonchalant that something always took precedence over a daily commitment to discovering your creative spirit? If not--if this very thought fills you with regret--then what are you waiting for?

Commitment, Dreamed, Pretty, Regret, Waiting, Writing

If we stay where we are, where we're stuck, where we're comfortable and safe, we die there. . . When nothing new can get in, that's death.

Safe, Stuck, Dies, Death, Nothing