Pic With Nature Quotes

Mr. Smith was an art-ist, as well as an in-vent-or, and he paint-ed a pic-ture of a riv-er which was so nat-ur-al that, as he was reach-ing a-cross it to paint some flow-ers on the op-po-site bank, he fell in-to the wa-ter and was drowned.

It’s a good pic,” I say absently. Drew smirks. And I glare. “What? It has artistic merit.” “It’s man candy,” Johnson says. “Look at you, all thoughtfully flexing your muscles. Did you flex your ass too?” “Nothing to flex. That’s just my natural form.” I give him a look. “Jealous?” Rolondo laughs. “Yeah, he is.

Cel mai bun mod de a rămâne în contact cu natura noastră sălbatică este să ne întrebăm ce vrem cu adevărat. Separăm astfel semințele de pământ. Este necesar să distingem între lucrurile exterioare care ne atrag și chemarea venind din suflet. Iată cum funcționează: să ne imaginăm un bufet imens, încărcat cu bucate, unele mai apetisante decât altele, caviar, somon fume, fripturi, creme, sosuri, fructe de mare, salată de fructe, iaurt, brânzeturi. Iar noi trecem încet prin fața lui, spunându-ne: „O, aș mânca un pic din asta, un pic din aia și un pic din ailaltă”. Sunt femei și bărbați care întreaga viață iau în felul acesta deciziile. În jurul nostru e o mare plină de tentații care ne cheamă neîncetat, se insinuează în viața noastră și ne stârnesc apetitul fără să ne fie foame. În acest tip de alegere, optăm pentru ceva doar fiindcă ne-a picat sub nas exact atunci; nu ne trebuie, dar ni se pare interesant și, cu cât îl privim mai mult, cu atât îl dorim mai tare. Când suntem conectate la Sinele instinctual, la sufletul femininului, care este natural și sălbatic, în loc să examinăm ceea ce se află din întâmplare în fața noastră, ne întrebăm: „De ce îmi este foame?” Fără să mai privim la nimic din afară, ne îndreptăm atenția spre interior și ne întrebăm: „După ce tânjesc? Ce vreau acum?” Sau: „Ce dor mă mistuie? Ce îmi lipsește? Ce îmi doresc din adâncul inimii?” Iar răspunsul vine de regulă imediat: „Cred că vreau... Da, asta e ceea ce vreau.” Se află cumva pe mesele îmbelșugate? Poate da, poate nu. Mai degrabă nu, în majoritatea cazurilor. Va trebui să căutăm, uneori chiar destul de mult. Dar, în cele din urmă, vom găsi și vom fi fericite de a ne fi sondat dorințele noastre cele mai profunde. Acest mod de a discerne (...) este lucrul cel mai greu de învățat, căci necesită curaj, voință, sensibilitate. Nimic nu exprimă mai clar acest lucru decât alegerile în dragoste. Un iubit nu poate face obiectul unei alegeri de tip bufet suedez. Alegerea trebuie să vină dintr-un dor al sufletului. A alege ceva doar pentru că, văzându-l, îți lasă gura apă nu va liniști niciodată foamea Sinelui sufletesc. Iată de ce avem nevoie de intuiție, această mesageră a sufletului.

The next morning, Peter is waiting in the parking lot for me when I get off the bus. “Hey,” he says. “Are you seriously taking the bus every day?” “My car is being fixed, remember? My accident?” He sighs like this is somehow offensive to him, me taking the bus to school. Then he grabs my hand and holds it as we walk into school together. This is the first time I’ve walked down the school hallway holding hands with a boy. It should feel momentous, special, but it doesn’t, because it’s not real. Honestly, it feels like nothing. Emily Nussbaum does a double take when she sees us. Emily is Gen’s best friend. She’s staring so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t take a quick pic on her phone to send to Gen. Peter keeps stopping to say hi to people, and I stand there smiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Me and Peter Kavinsky. At one point I try to let go of his hand, because mine is starting to feel sweaty, but he tightens his grip. “Your hand is too hot,” I hiss. Through clenched teeth he says, “No, your hand is.” I’m sure Genevieve’s hands are never sweaty. She could probably hold hands for days without getting overheated. When we get to my locker, we finally drop hands so I can dump my books inside. I’m shutting my locker door when Peter leans in and tries to kiss me on the mouth. I’m so startled I turn my head, and we hit foreheads. “Ow!” Peter rubs his forehead and glares at me. “Well, don’t just sneak up on me like that!” My forehead hurts too. We really banged them hard, like cymbals. If I looked up right now, I would see blue cartoon birdies. “Lower your voice, dummy,” he says through clenched teeth. “Don’t you call me a dummy, you dummy,” I whisper back. Peter heaves a big sigh like he’s really annoyed with me. I’m about to snap at him that it’s his fault, not mine, when I catch a glimpse of Genevieve gliding down the hallway. “Gotta go,” I say, and I dart off in the opposite direction. “Wait!” Peter calls out. But I keep darting.

Cole looks dark and brooding, like the hero of a romance novel. How is that possible? That he can look good even in an id picture. I bet the jerk looks good in his driver’s license photo. Kenneth tilts his head, laughing. “Except Cole. He’s a mutant.” I shove the offending thing at Cole as he comes back with a couple of safety vests. “How is that fair?” “What did I do?” “You look hot in your badge pic.” “What?” His brow is crinkled in puzzlement. “You think I’m hot?” “Nobody should look this good in an id photo.” He shrugs. “Can’t help it, Coffee Girl. Comes naturally. Yours can’t be that bad. Let me see.” I jerk it back when he tries to grab it. “It’s awful. Trust me. You don’t need to see that.

lot for me when I get off the bus. “Hey,” he says. “Are you seriously taking the bus every day?” “My car is being fixed, remember? My accident?” He sighs like this is somehow offensive to him, me taking the bus to school. Then he grabs my hand and holds it as we walk into school together. This is the first time I’ve walked down the school hallway holding hands with a boy. It should feel momentous, special, but it doesn’t, because it’s not real. Honestly, it feels like nothing. Emily Nussbaum does a double take when she sees us. Emily is Gen’s best friend. She’s staring so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t take a quick pic on her phone to send to Gen. Peter keeps stopping to say hi to people, and I stand there smiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Me and

One could compare a lover’s gaze to a barbecue skewer. Within the complexity of our nature, every lover pics up on certain elements and neglects others.

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