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Home Expectations No day in which you learn something is a complete loss.

ExpectationsInspirational Quotes

No day in which you learn something is a complete loss.

Polly, January 22, 2013

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Tags : David Eddings

The bridges you cross before you come to them are over rivers that aren’t there.

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If we did the things we are capable of, we would astound ourselves.

Polly

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I must have a prodigious quantity of mind; it takes me as much as a week sometimes to make it up.

I must have a prodigious quantity of mind; it takes me as much as a week sometimes to make it up.

There is nothing stronger in the world than gentleness.

There is nothing stronger in the world than gentleness.

The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love and to be greater than our suffering.

The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love and to be greater than our suffering.

Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.

Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop than when we soar.

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.

“A Lot Of People Give Up Just Before They’re About To Make It. You Know You Never Know When That Next Obstacle Is Going To Be The Last One”

“A Lot Of People Give Up Just Before They’re About To Make It. You Know You Never Know When That Next Obstacle Is Going To Be The Last One”

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