Maxi Quotes

Tampon commercial, detergent commercial, maxi pad commercial, windex commercial - you'd think all women do is clean and bleed.

I was ten. I had noticed something was weird earlier in the day, but I knew from commercials that one's menstrual period was a blue liquid that you poured like laundry detergent onto maxi pads to test their absorbency. This wasn't blue, so...I ignored it for a few hours.

Because being assaulted with maxi pads is a great way to win friends and influence people.

You really hurt me. I wouldn't hurt you. Not like this.

But I'll never see any of those fish," said Maxie."Or those whales. Or any lions or tigers. I'm never going to set foot in a rain forest now, am I? I won't even be able to watch old DVD's about them without electricity. What does the future hold? It's like going back to the middle ages. Nobody knowing what was going on beyond their front doorstep. All I'll ever know is this. This little bit of London.

Can you take me back into town?" I say. "I can't get my voicemails." "Why don't you calm down, D-Dub. I know you're menstruating, but everything's going to be fine. Once we get inside, I'll explain all about maxi pads, personal hygiene and the feel of a man's penis.

New Maxi-Pad Pets. Accessories for your period. Brought to you by The Corporation: In your homes and in your pants.

When you need Stayfree MaxiPads to absorb the expectorants produced by your insulted body, you are in serious fucking trouble.

It’s been a whole day since I last killed someone, and I’m getting antsy. (Maxis)

Hey Jade?' He called out holding two packages of maxi pads. I shook my head violently to stop Dad from talking, but from where he stood, I doubted he could see I was talking to a boy. A mildly annoying, but nonetheless cute boy. 'Do you want wings or no wings?' It was official. This was shaping up to be the Most. Embarrassing. Day. Ever.

I was ten years old. I had noticed something was weird earlier in the day but I knew from commercials that one's menstrual period was a blue liquid that you poured like laundry detergent onto maxi pads to test their absorbency. This wasn't blue so...I ignored it for a few hours. When we got home I pulled my mom aside to ask if it was weird I was bleeding in my underpants. She was very sympathetic but also a little baffled. Her eyes said "Dummy didn't you read 'How Shall I Tell My Daughter ". I HAD read it but nowhere in the pamphlet did anyone say that your period was NOT a blue liquid. At that moment two things became clear to me I was now technically a woman and I would never be a doctor.

Wanna rock you, girl, with a butterfly tunic. / No, I'm not gay, I'm just your emo enuch. / Gonna smile real shy, won't cop a feel, / 'cause I'm your virgin crush, your supersafe deal. / Let those other guys keep sexing. / You and me, we be texting / 'bout unicorns and rainbows and our perfect love. / Girl, we fit together like a hand in a glove. / Now I don't mean that nasty, tell your mum don't get mad. / I even wrote 'You're awesome' on your maxi pads.

He’s also a dick,’ said Achilleus to a scattering of laughter. Maxie saw that even Nicola was trying to hide a smile.

I don’t like being here with these people and animals. I’m going to retire, but remember, courage is doing what we know is dangerous. It’s risking our safety for a chance at something better. Don’t let your fears shape your reality because no matter how cautious you are, someone or something always sneaks in the back door to manifest that fear. Better to face it and defeat it than to let it attack you unawares. (Maxis)

If they think they can stop me, I defy them to bring the best they have and I shall roast them over a pit of their own arrogant stupidity."--Maxis

Maxie knew he must have been very bad to deserve this. He wondered what it was he had done. And why he hadn’t enjoyed it more at the time

Here is one of the great truths of the human condition: when you need Stayfree Maxi Pads to absorb the expectorants produced by your insulted body, you are in serious fucking trouble.

And the way I loved her was like nothing else. This, I decided, was the love all other loves were measured against. They say girls look to marry their fathers, but I decided after having Maxie that we all, every one of us, were looking to marry our mothers. Sitting on the sofa with her wrapped in a soft blanket in my arms, I’d think, ‘This baby has it so good.’ It just seemed that the love I’d been searching and hoping for all my life was what Maxie already had right now: two big arms and a lap, a warm blanket, the background music of a heartbeat and a pair of lungs, food at a moment’s notice, sleep at every urge, and a person totally obsessed with her, whose every moment—waking or otherwise—was totally devoted to her comfort and care. Was that so much to ask for?

After Arran died we could've fallen apart. But we didn't. Because you held it together. "Arran Lives" - you remember that?" "I remember." "He lived in you, Max. You done well. I like you. You're cool.

Do you remember that piece of footage on the local news, just as the first tower comes down, woman runs in off the street into a store, just gets the door closed behind her, and here comes this terrible black billowing, ash, debris, sweeping through the streets, gale force past the window. . .that was the moment, Maxi. Not when 'everything changed.' When everything was revealed. No grand Zen illumination, but a rush of blackness and death. Showing us exactly what we've become, what we've been all the time." "And what we've always been is. . .?" "Is living on borrowed time. Getting away cheap. Never caring about who's paying for it, who's starving somewhere else all jammed together so we can have cheap food, a house, a yard in the burbs. . .planetwide, more every day, the payback keeps gathering. And meantime the only help we get from the media is boo hoo the innocent dead. Boo fuckin hoo. You know what? All the dead are innocent. There's no uninnocent dead.

It was 1976. It was one of the darkest days of my life when that nurse, Mrs. Shimmer, pulled out a maxi pad that measured the width and depth of a mattress and showed us how to use it. It had a belt with it that looked like a slingshot that possessed the jaw-dropping potential to pop a man's head like a gourd. As she stretched the belt between the fingers of her two hands, Mrs. Shimmer told us becoming a woman was a magical and beautiful experience. I remember thinking to myself, You're damn right it had better be magic, because that's what it's going to take to get me to wear something like that, Tinkerbell! It looked like a saddle. Weighed as much as one, too. Some girls even cried. I didn't. I raised my hand. "Mrs. Shimmer," I asked the cautiously, "so what kind of security napkins do boys wear when their flower pollinates? Does it have a belt, too?" The room got quiet except for a bubbling round of giggles. "You haven't been paying attention, have you?" Mrs. Shimmer accused sharply. "Boys have stamens, and stamens do not require sanitary napkins. They require self control, but you'll learn that soon enough." I was certainly hoping my naughty bits (what Mrs. Shimmer explained to us was like the pistil of a flower) didn't get out of control, because I had no idea what to do if they did.

Sometimes even the best of us have to lose ourselves in fantasy to survive reality.

Fine.

SECRET #47 When life gives you a pile of poop, you’re gonna get dirty—so you may as well roll with it.

Men are so clueless, self-centered, and undeserving, each a bland replica of the other. They’re motivated by sex, sports, hunting, cars, and food. If they can’t screw it, cheer for it, shoot it, drive it, or consume it, then it might as well be a diva cup or a maxi pad.

Arran’s grey-blue eyes opened and they were clear and bright. He smiled at Maxie. ‘I love you, Mum,’ he said quietly and he died in Maxie’s arms.

Damn. He’d just planned a real date with a woman. Break out the maxi pads, he’d officially become a chick.

He turned the entire living room into an airport, complete with a four-foot-high LEGO traffic control tower and a fleet of paper planes, plastic army pilots taped safely into their cockpits. From deep beneath the couch, a large utility flashlight illuminates some sort of...landing strip? I crouch down for a better look. Oh. My. God. Stuck to the carpet in parallel, unbroken paths from one wall to the other are two lanes of brand-new maxi pads. Plastic dinosaurs stand guard at every fourth pad–triceratops and T rexes on one side, brontosauruses and pterodactyls on the other–protecting the airport from enemy aircraft and/or heavy flow.

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired,' said Maxie. 'I know how that feels,' said Blue. 'I think some Pharaoh had that carved on his tomb,' Maxie added. 'Yeah? Times don't change much, do they?

Bad news is still bad news - even if you're expecting it.

El lema de mis padres era: no hay almohada más blanda que la conciencia tranquila

so we went up the hill. then we got into my room and I looked at them both. my pure and beautiful slim and magic little girl glorious fuck with the hair dangling down to the asshole, and next to her the tragedy of the ages: slime and horror, the machine gone wrong, frogs tortured by little boys and head-on car collisions and the spider taking in the ball-less buzzing fly and the landscape brain of Primo Carnera going down under the dull playboy guns of cocksure Maxie Baer — new heavyweight champ of America — I, I rushed at the Tragedy of the Ages — that fat slob of accumulated shit.

Being exactly who you are is a powerful energy force.

This “wrong” place is telling you everything you need to know about yourself to get into the right one.

But when (as will inevitably happen) mature women are again seen as sexy, it’s likely that the maxi and midi will make their triumphant return as sexy garments. Fashion

DeNice and the other girl, the big girl, Beebi, talked to Eleanor now in gym. (Because being assaulted with maxi pads is a great way to win friends and influence people.)

C’mon, Maxie. Miller and your dad are being annoyingly happy. We single men don’t need to hear about that.

Maxi Taxi, you’ve got him now, you’ve got him, Jew boy, you’ve got him, you’ve got him!” A small kid with soft tufts of hair, a beaten nose, and swampy eyes, Max was a good head shorter

There on the sofa, as I nursed Maxie and her eyes slid closed, I said to the girls, ‘I think nursing is where kisses come from.’ I had been thinking about it. Nursing had to be the place where nurturing and sweet milk and soft skin and mouths and warmth all came together and started to mean something about love. I had always assumed kissing was a learned thing, like waving bye-bye or speaking a language. But since Maxie, I’d decided that it was innate, the adult version of something we know to do from the moment we’re born. All of it tied together in the cycle of life.

Dear God, there couldn't be a single thing more humiliating in this entire world. Unless, of course, Hairy had been out here in his maxi pad. Thomas sighed. Walking around the house with that thing tied around his waist, Hairy had looked like a—well, he'd looked like an ugly dog in a Kotex. Thomas had laughed his ass off at first, but soon discovered the crazy scheme had saved him about three cleanup jobs in one evening alone.

So what is it really like? What happens when people die?" Noor asks Alice Bhatti, who after finishing her shift has changed into a loose maxi and is lying down on a wheelie stretcher, her forearm covering her eyes. A half-torn poster on the wall behind the stretcher says : Bhai, your blood will bring a revolution. Someone has scrawled under it with a marker: And that revolution will bring more blood. Someone has added Insha'allah in an attempt to introduce divine intervention into the proceedings. Some more down-to-earth soul has tried to give this revolution a direction, and drawn an arrow underneath and scribbled, Bhai, the Blood Bank is in Block C.

That’s ridiculous!” I said, and with such genuine indignation that Al chuckled. The chuckles tried to morph into a coughing fit and he stifled them. Here in the privacy of his own home, he wasn’t using tissues, handkerchiefs, or napkins to deal with that cough; there was a box of maxi pads on the table beside his chair. My eyes kept straying to them. I’d urge them away, perhaps to look at the photo on the wall of Al with his arm around a good-looking woman, then find them straying back. Here is one of the great truths of the human condition: when you need Stayfree Maxi Pads to absorb the expectorants produced by your insulted body, you are in serious fucking trouble.

If men could menstruate ... clearly, menstruation would become an enviable, boast-worthy, masculine event: Men would brag about how long and how much.... Sanitary supplies would be federally funded and free. Of course, some men would still pay for the prestige of such commercial brands as Paul Newman Tampons, Muhammed Ali’s Rope-a-Dope Pads, John Wayne Maxi Pads, and Joe Namath Jock Shields —”For Those Light Bachelor Days.”               Gloria Steinem

One time, I noticed that the little waxy strips you peel off the maxi pad adhesive were printed, over and over, with a slogan: 'Kotex Understands.' In the worst moments, when my period felt like a death - the death of innocence, the death of safety, the harbinger of a world where I was too fat, too weird, too childish, too ungainly - I'd sit hunched over on the toilet and stare at that slogan, and I'd cry. Kotex understands. Somebody, somewhere, understands.

The lush leaves of the tree rustled as though in a song. The old ballad’s lyrics mingled with the music of the leaves, recounting the tale of a woman and her one and only love. Without being conscious of it, Maxi murmured the final verse. I shall love thee Until my dying breath

YO MAMA SO SKINNY... Yo mama so skinny she hula hoops with a cheerio. Yo mama so skinny she can grate cheese on her ribs. Yo mama so skinny her nipples touch. Your mama is so skinny she can dodge raindrops. Yo mama's so skinny when her pimp slapped her he got a paper cut. Yo mama so skinny she uses Chapstick for deodorant. Yo mama so skinny she uses a tea bag as her pillow. Yo mama so skinny she uses a Band-Aid as a maxi-pad. Yo mama so skinny when she swallowed a meatball everyone thought she was pregnant again. Yo mama so skinny if she had a yeast infection she'd be a Quarter Pounder with cheese.

When the Infinite Improbability Drive arrived and whole planets started unexpectedly turning into banana fruitcake, the great history faculty of the University of MaxiMegalon finally gave up, closed itself down and surrendered its buildings to the rapidly growing joint faculty of Divinity and Water Polo, which had been after them for years.

When the Infinite Improbability Drive arrived and whole planets started unexpectedly turning into banana fruitcake, the great history faculty of the University of MaxiMegalon finally gave up, closed itself down and surrendered its buildings to the rapidly growing joint faculty of Divinity and Water Polo, which had been after them for years. Which

Work every damn day to be the highest possible expression of yourself.

The highest expression of yourself is doing what you want to do how you want to do it—and being as wildly you as possible while you do.

That then will never come. Because there’s absolutely nothing that needs to change about you in order to find your way.

Trusting the process is core to trusting yourself.

Busy” is complete bullshit, and if you distract yourself with it, you miss the personal discovery that occurs during your ascent.

There's nothing so bad in the world that dog kisses won't make it better

Sometimes when you least expect it, hope wiggles into your heart.

Sometimes all the energy you put into something you think matters doesn't matter one bit.

There is nothing you can imagine that is quite as soulful as the eyes of a mini-dachshund staring up at the popcorn bowl to inspire an unendurable case of guilt.

Things happen and you change directions,

Fear is not something that goes away. It’s not something that even diminishes, really. Rather, it stays. You can simply become better and better at hearing it without listening.

The goal isn’t to be fearless. The goal is to keep fear from running the show.

A little kindness makes a big difference.

SECRET #4 Something can stare you in the face and you still can’t see it. Better take another gander.

SECRET #14 Sometimes you shouldn’t be so sure of what you think you’re sure of.

SECRET #16 If you’re not careful, you can lose a friend even faster than you made one.

SECRET #20 Sometimes the best medicine isn’t medicine at all.

SECRET #22 It’s better to focus on what you can do instead of what you can’t do.

SECRET #27 When the world gnaws on you day after day, there comes a day when they reach the bone and you just can’t take it anymore.

SECRET #32 You don’t need a thanks to know you’ve done the right thing.

SECRET #42 You may not have to look very far to find more than what you were searching for.

SECRET #46 Hold on to the good parts for as long as you can.

For all the walls I'd built up over the years, he was an open field of wildflowers. One you could frolic in for hours without ever getting lost.

The line from Pulp Fiction—the one Samuel L. Jackson shouts at John Travolta as they’re trying to wash blood off their hands—pops into my head: 'I used the same soap you did and when I dried my hands, the towel didn't look like no fuckin’ maxi-pad!' I almost—almost—share this most quotable of cinematic quotes with him, when I remember it contains The Word. You know: 'maxi-pad.

Because when you slow down to feel your feelings instead of running to escape them, you allow the things you really care about, the truth of what excites and energizes you, to catch up, to show themselves, to present.

And it's stupid to have rules about how long you're allowed to cry and when you're supposed to flip a switch and stop crying. You can't even think. All you can do is feel. So how the heck are you supposed to follow rules?

Larry boiled Maultsby’s multistep practice of rational self-counseling down to this: Stop—Challenge—Choose. Stop means pause. Breathe. Get yourself ready to challenge your spontaneous, usually unhelpful, thinking. Is it rational? Is it promoting your health and helping you achieve your goals? If the answer is no, this is a signal to choose what Maxie would call a more rational response—a response that works better in helping you achieve your goals. It’s not about right or wrong. It’s about what helps you move forward.

Wanna rock you, girl, with a butterfly tunic. / No, I’m not gay, I’m just your emo eunuch. / Gonna smile real shy, won’t cop a feel, / ’cause I’m your virgin crush, your supersafe deal. / Let those other guys keep sexing. / You and me, we be texting / ’bout unicorns and rainbows and our perfect love. / Girl, we fit together like a hand in a glove. / Now I don’t mean that nasty, tell your mom don’t get mad. /I even wrote ‘You’re awesome’ on your maxi pads.” Tiara sighed. “My mom let me use that song for my Christian pole dancing routine.

Thank you, Jesus, for what you’ve done, are doing, and will continue to do for a good ole boy from North Louisiana. Thank you, God, for the best parents a man could ever hope for. My incredible brothers, thanks for always having my back and showing me how men of God are supposed to live. My terrific sisters-in-law, thanks for putting up with my bros and being good friends and mentors for Jess. My “blood brothers”--Fishbone, Nicky Tightpants, McG, G.G., ZDash, Maxi--and all the countless friends who’ve been there through the good, the bad, and the grace of God. --Jep

Her hair, which had been a bland and forgettable colour before, had been dyed a deep, blood red, the furious set to her features letting me know that it was a promise of its own, to see the blood of her enemies spilled in payment for the losses she’d suffered in that battle. It suited her, the colour matching with the fire which burned unwaveringly within her soul, bright and brutal and wholly her. “I do,” I agreed. “Then I am coming with you. My Maxy boy awaits me, and I shall bay for vengeance on behalf of my dear Daddy while ripping the throats from our enemies as we retrieve him.

Though weeks, even months, have at times gone by without contact, when we were separated by distance and occupied with busy lives and raising families, the thread of connection had continued true and deep, allowing us to pick up where we left off, as if there had been no time lost. Time had never been a part of the equation.

This was when the first major Muddles of Galactic history set in, with battles continually reerupting centuries after the issues they had been fought over had supposedly been settled. However, these muddles were as nothing to the ones which historians had to try and unravel once time-travel was discovered and battles started preerupting hundreds of years before the issues even arose. When the Infinite Improbability Drive arrived and whole planets started unexpectedly turning into banana fruitcake, the great history faculty of the University of MaxiMegalon finally gave up, closed itself down and surrendered its buildings to the rapidly growing joint faculty of Divinity and Water Polo, which had been after them for years.

No matter how many pep talks someone gives you or how much inspiration you read on the internet, there’s only one voice that truly matters: yours. Because no matter what’s happening in your life, the only person in your head is you. There is no one else who can control your thoughts but you. No one else’s positive words matter if you’re regularly and continually ripping yourself apart with negative chatter.

Aunt Maxie giggled. ‘What can he be thinking about so hard?’ ‘Best not to know,’ his mother said. She tsked. ‘One day that boy’ll go too far.’ ‘Something serious. Look at him. He can’t even hear us talking about him. What can it be?’ ‘Complex numbers,’ Garvie said, without taking his eyes off the table. ‘Oh.’ With a suspicious glance at her son, Garvie’s mother asked Aunt Maxie about the new locl convenience store, and they settled into a conversation about the scandalous rising prices of food. Garvie carried on thinking. a + bi, where i has the property i squared = -1. The product of a real number and an imaginary number. You don’t compute complex numbers, you rotate them. You move them into an imaginary dimension and the answer is an unexpected jolt from the blue. ‘Garvie? Garvie?’ He looked up at his aunt. ‘Alex is lying,’ he said.

Otra que me parece muy bonita: estábamos en Rumanía, Karin y yo, y haciendo autostop conocimos a dos chicos que eran del Cáucaso. Pasamos la noche juntos, hicimos una hoguera, los chicos tuvieron que currar un montón, y nosotras nos encargamos de lo bonito, de la música y de leer en voz alta y así. Mucho, mucho, mucho tiempo. En casa también era así, papá hacía lo bonito, él era el polo tranquilo, como suelen serlo los hombres, y mamá la que se ocupaba de todo. A la mañana siguiente los chicos se levantaron pronto, recogieron el maíz, lo cocieron, le pusieron hojas encima para que se mantuviera caliente. De algún modo, no sé, teníamos ganas de acostarnos con ellos, pero nadie lo echó de menos, fue realmente bonito. Si te acuestas con alguien y no lo conoces bien, tiene que ser muy buena gente. Disfrutar la belleza del cuerpo, ay, eso es precioso. [Bárbara, 23 años, grafista, soltera]

You may find it hard to believe, but a true lady won’t just roll over and accept a merciless cad for a suitor just because he manages to water her lawn satisfactorily. I am more than attuned to your personal moral standards and I have no desire to lower myself to them. So call it what you will, foolhardiness, stubbornness or just a pure and true desire to tangle my web with a real gentleman but when it comes down to it, Maxy boy, you have been measured and you have been found wanting.

You may find it hard to believe, but a true lady won’t just roll over and accept a merciless cad for a suitor just because he manages to water her lawn satisfactorily. I am more than attuned to your personal moral standards and I have no desire to lower myself to them. So call it what you will, foolhardiness, stubbornness or just a pure and true desire to tangle my web with a real gentleman but when it comes down to it, Maxy boy, you have been measured and you have been found wanting. Now please refrain from touching me with your slippery flippers and let us return to our lesson.

No, that’s not the style of these people,’ explained Maxy. ‘You shouldn’t think of these Bolsheviks as modern politicians. They were religious fanatics. Their Marxism was fanatical; their fervour was semi-Islamic; and they saw themselves as members of a secret military-religious order like the medieval Crusaders or the Knights Templar. They were ruthless, amoral and paranoid. They believed that millions would have to die to create their perfect world. Family, love and friendship were nothing compared to the holy grail. People died of gossip at Stalin’s court. For a man like Satinov, secrecy was everything.

A los hombres siempre hay que hacerles teatro, si no los asustas. Todavía no he conocido a ninguno que quisiera averiguar cómo soy realmente y por qué soy así. Todos querían algo concreto de mí.

la

more research with Richard,” Paul said, shaking off my weirdness. “He’s more likely to listen to me.” Actually, in my experience, Richard was less likely to listen to Paul and more likely to listen to himself telling Paul what to do. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I think there’s someone who could do it better.” Paul’s eyebrows, which had returned to their traditional position, rose. “Really.” “Yes. Liss, would you see if Maxie is up in your room, and if she is, ask her to come down here?” Melissa put her glass in the sink and walked toward the kitchen door. “I was going up to change anyway,” she said. She smiled privately. “One more day.” And she was gone. Paul regarded me carefully. “Maxie?” he asked. “Best possible solution. She’s not related to Richard, she has no feelings about him in any direction, and he’s seen that she’s good with research, so she’ll be asking him on a professional basis. The trick is going to be selling it to her.” Paul stayed very still for a moment, which I know is not easy for him to do; the ghosts are sort of ethereal, not really ever being solidly in one place or position. Then he held up a hand, palm out. “Very solid reasoning,” he said. Maxie, wearing the trench coat that indicated she had her laptop with her—nobody was getting that thing away from her now—dropped down through the ceiling and landed in the middle of the center island. I was just glad she hadn’t ended up in the middle of food. “Melissa says you were looking for me,” she said. The trench coat vanished, and sure enough

And there they were, the Foreign Returnees, in wash'n'wear suits and rainbow sunglasses. With an end to grinding poverty in their Aristocrat suitcases. With cement roofs for their thatched houses, and geysers for their parents' bathrooms. With sewage systems and septic tanks. Maxis and high heels. Puff sleeves and lipstick. Mixy-grinders and automatic flashes for their cameras. With keys to count, and cupboards to lock. With a hunger for kappa and meen vevichathu that they hadn’t eaten for so long. With love and a lick of shame that their families who had come to meet them were so... so... gawkish. Look at the way they dressed! Surely they had more suitable airport wear! Why did Malayalees have such awful teeth? (134)

I longed for Paul to notice me, for I believed that if I could only catch his eye, his heart would be shaken by the brave and lonely portrait I made there in my flowered maxi dress, my long hair blowing in the ocean breeze. Someone did notice me, but it was not Paul. And I did not find out about it until much later. Some months after my father died, in December of that same year, my mother told me, “Your Daddy was just heartbroken when he saw how hurt you were this past summer. He'd watch you out the window of our hotel room, sitting there alone, writing in your notebook, and it was almost more than he could bear.

You're an idealist. The idealists are always the revolutionaries, the cat's paws. Then the realists consolidate, compromise and liquidate the opposition.

Maxie

look down at my own Dr. Martens creepers, velour maxi skirt, and leather blazer. She looks like the Baby Spice to my Morticia Addams.

—¡ Cuánto tenemos que contar!... yo a ti, tú a mí . Ya sé que te has casado. Has hecho bien. Este has hecho bien le cayó a la prójima como una gota fría en el corazón, trayéndola bruscamente a la realidad. Enjugando sus lágrimas, se acordó de Maxi, de su boda; y su casa, que se había alejado cien millas de leguas, se puso allí, a cuatro pasos, fúnebre y antipática. El rechazo de su alma ante este fenómeno le secó en un instante todas las lágrimas. «¿ Y por qué hice bien?». —Porque así eres más libre y tienes un nombre. Puedes hacer lo que quieras, siempre que lo hagas con discreción. He oído que tu marido es un buen chico, que ve visiones…

Was du weißt, kannst du nicht erklären, aber du fühlst es. Du hast dein ganzes Leben lang gespürt, dass mit der Welt was nicht stimmt. Du weißt nicht, was es ist, aber du weißt, es ist da, wie ein Splitter in deinem Verstand, der dich zum Wahnsinn treibt.

Wir begreifen uns als Fehler und werden alles dafür tun, diesen "Fehler" zu übertünchen. Wir gehen in Therapie. Wir lesen Bücher. Wir studieren das Internet. Auf der Suche nach dem großen "Warum". Warum bin ich so?

Sie haben keine Angst. Sie machen sich nur sehr viele Sorgen.

Maxi groaned. "Historical settings. Always makes the paperwork so much harder. All our computers vanish. Can't wait to thumb through dusty textbooks for the next few hours.

How we think about events is what matters, not the events themselves. Unfortunately, most of the time our thinking is what Maxie called “irrational but believable.” That thinking is harmful, he pointed out, because when we think events cause our feelings directly, we’re victims.