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Home Friendship Every Cloud has a silver lining.

FriendshipInspirational Quotes

Every Cloud has a silver lining.

Polly, January 22, 2013

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Tags : Proverb

Count your blessings

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Take time to recharge your batteries. Its hard to see where you’re going when your lights are dim.

Polly

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Sixth grade was a big time, in my childhood, of hoops and friendship, and coming up with funny things.

Sixth grade was a big time, in my childhood, of hoops and friendship, and coming up with funny things.

Love, and a cough, cannot be hid.

Love, and a cough, cannot be hid.

Love only grows by sharing. You can only have more for yourself by giving it away to others.

Love only grows by sharing. You can only have more for yourself by giving it away to others.

Maybe I couldn’t make it. Maybe I don’t have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky ass, a sexy voice. Maybe I don’t know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I’m sick of the masquerade. I’m sick of pretending eternal youth. I’m sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I’m sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I’m sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I’m sick of the Powder Room. I’m sick of pretending that some fatuous male’s self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I’m sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I’m sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.

Maybe I couldn’t make it. Maybe I don’t have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky ass, a sexy voice. Maybe I don’t know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I’m sick of the masquerade. I’m sick of pretending eternal youth. I’m sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I’m sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I’m sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I’m sick of the Powder Room. I’m sick of pretending that some fatuous male’s self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I’m sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I’m sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.

Develop a benevolent world view; look for the good in the people and circumstances around you.

Develop a benevolent world view; look for the good in the people and circumstances around you.

Neither fire nor wind, birth nor death can erase our good deeds.

Neither fire nor wind, birth nor death can erase our good deeds.

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