One reason the human race has such a low opinion of itself is that it gets so much of its wisdom from writers.
You'll be surprised what someone is able to handle given no other choice.
There is a string that connects us that is not visible to the eye. Maybe every person has more than one soul they are connected to, and all over the world there are those invisible strings. . . Maybe the chances that you'll find each and every one of your soul mates is slim. But sometimes you're lucky enough to stumble across one. And you feel a tug. And it's not so much a choice to love them though their flaws and through your differences, but rather you love them without even trying. You love their flaws.
Human eyes are the sign language of the brain. If you watch them carefully, you can see the truth played out, raw and unguarded.
I like pain. I like when it lingers. It reminds a person of what they've lived through.
We are all so broken. Pick up a person, shake them around and you'll hear the rattling of their broken pieces. Pieces our fathers broke, or our mothers, or our friends, strangers, or our loves.
One is a choice, and one is not.
Mencius said that human nature is good. I disagree with that.
Aye, you white dog, you are like all your race; but to a black man gold can never pay for blood.
Well I'm trying to think what I put in. . . I think I put in 'why?' to see if I'd confuse the computer.
All of sudden, this shooting star went by, and all I could think was that they were listening to us somehow.