Ross Quotes

The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.

We don't make mistakes, just happy little accidents.

Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the true beauty of their carvings.

People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.

Good women are no fun... The only good woman I can recall in history was Betsy Ross. And all she ever made was a flag.

The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.

But I’d rather look back and regret something I did when I was young and crazy, than look back and regret something I never had the courage to do, and realize it’s too late.

I don't think you realize how strong you are, because sometimes strength isn't swords and steel and fire, as we are so often made to believe. Sometimes it's found in quiet, gentle places.

It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are. Sometimes I feel the same as you: I can’t risk having people behold me as I truly am. But there’s also a small voice in the back of my mind, a voice that tells me, “You will miss so much by being so guarded.

Talent is a pursued interest. Anything that you're willing to practice, you can do.

The opinion which other people have of you is their problem, not yours.

In the meantime, I hope you will find your place, wherever you are. Even in the silence, I hope you will find the words you need to share.

I am coming to love him, in two different ways. Face to face, and word to word.

I don’t want to wake up when I’m seventy-four only to realize I haven’t lived.

There is within each one of us a potential for goodness beyond our imagining; for giving which seeks no reward; for listening without judgment; for loving unconditionally.

I love the words I write until I soon realize how much I hate them, as if I am destined to always be at war within myself.

There's nothing wrong with having a tree as a friend.

There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blessings given to us to learn from.

I never told you that I love you. And I regret that, most of all.

That’s it. You’re doing great, Winnow.” “Shut up, Kitt.” “Absolutely. Whatever you want.

Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose.

Write me a story where there is no ending, Kitt. Write to me and fill my empty spaces.

I guess I’m a little weird. I like to talk to trees and animals. That’s okay though; I have more fun than most people.

I think we all wear armor. I think those who don’t are fools, risking the pain of being wounded by the sharp edges of the world, over and over again. But if I’ve learned anything from those fools, it is that to be vulnerable is a strength most of us fear. It takes courage to let down your armor, to welcome people to see you as you are.

Returning home is the most difficult part of long-distance hiking; You have grown outside the puzzle and your piece no longer fits.

It’s not a crime to feel joy, even when things seem hopeless. Iris, look at me. You deserve all the happiness in the world. And I intend to see that you have it.

But I think there is a magical link between you and me. A bond that not even distance can break.

And I’m not afraid to be alone, but I’m tired of being the one left behind.

I would love to see you burn with splendor. I would love to see your words catch fire with mine.

Iris,” said Roman, “you are worthy of love. You are worthy to feel joy right now, even in the darkness. And just in case you’re wondering … I’m not going anywhere, unless you tell me to leave, and even then, we might need to negotiate.

We think sometimes we're only drawn to the good, but we're actually drawn to the authentic. We like people who are real more than those who hide their true selves under layers of artificial niceties

My favorite season is autumn, because my mum and I both believed that’s the only time when magic can be tasted in the air.

There is no need to go to India or anywhere else to find peace. You will find that deep place of silence right in your room, your garden or even your bathtub.

to be vulnerable is a strength most of us fear.

It's only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth -- and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up -- that we will begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had.

He found me on my darkest day. He followed me to war, to the front lines. He came between me and Death, taking wounds that were supposed to be mine.

Their souls weren’t mirrors but complements, constellations that burned side by side.

Please dont' look at me like that," she said. "How am I looking?" "Like your heart is breaking." "It is, sunshine.

And oh she had been broken. She hid it well, but Ross knew from personal experience that once you had put the pieces together, even though you might look intact, you were never quite the same as you'd been before the fall

According to Elizabeth Kubler Ross, there are fivestages of grief a person passes through after the death of aloved one: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

I would rather die than have my fans see me without a pair of heels on. And that's show business.

Wisdom means to choose now what will make sense later. I am learning everyday to allow the space between where I am and where I want to be, to inspire me and not terrify me.

For anyone who sought a different realm through a wardrobe door, Who wrote a letter and is still waiting for a reply, Or who dreams of stories and bleeds words.

Let's get crazy.

Thurber was asked by a correspondent: "Why did you have a comma in the sentence, 'After dinner, the men went into the living-room'?" And his answer was probably one of the loveliest things ever said about punctuation. "This particular comma," Thurber explained, "was Ross's way of giving the men time to push back their chairs and stand up.

The secret to doing anything is believing that you can do it. Anything that you believe you can do strong enough, you can do. Anything. As long as you believe.

The days to come will only grow darker. And when you find something good? You hold on to it. You don't waste time worrying about things that won't even matter in the end. Rather, you take a risk for that light.

I certainly supported a woman's right to choose, but to my mind the time to choose was before, not after the fact.

There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.

Am I a mindless fool? My life is a fragment, a disconnected dream that has no continuity. I am so tired of senselessness. I am tired of the music that my feelings sing, the dream music.

It is very important that you only do what you love to do. you may be poor, you may go hungry, you may lose your car, you may have to move into a shabby place to live, but you will totally live. And at the end of your days you will bless your life because you have done what you came here to do. Otherwise, you will live your life as a prostitute, you will do things only for a reason, to please other people, and you will never have lived. and you will not have a pleasant death.

Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose, there are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are blessings given to us to learn from.

But time will slowly heal you, as it is doing for me. There are good days and there are difficult days. Your grief will never fully fade; it will always be with you--a shadow you carry in your soul--but it will become fainter as your life becomes brighter. You will learn to live outside of it again, as impossible as that may sound. Others who share your pain will also help you heal. Because you are not alone. Not in your fear or your grief or your hopes or your dreams. You are not alone.

The greatest thing is to have someone who loves you and—and to love in return.

I am but a verse inspired by your chorus, and I will follow you until the end, when the isle takes my bones and my name is nothing more than a remembrance on a headstone, next to yours.

All you need to paint is a few tools, a little instruction, and a vision in your mind.

The walls of books around him, dense with the past, formed a kind of insulation against the present world and its disasters.

I've told my children that when I die, to release balloons in the sky to celebrate that I graduated. For me, death is a graduation.

When I die I'm going to dance first in all the galaxies...I'm gonna play and dance and sing.

I can't think of anything more rewarding than being able to express yourself to others through painting. Exercising the imagination, experimenting with talents, being creative; these things, to me, are truly the windows to your soul.

Autumn lingered on as if fond of its own perfection.

I pray that my days will be long at your side. Let me fill and satisfy every longing in your soul. May your hand be in mine, by sun and by night. Let our breaths twine and our blood become one, until our bones return to dust. Even then, may I find your soul still sworn to mine.

Somebody better be dead or dying." He froze mid-step when he saw her. It might have been wishful thinking but she could've sworn his face lit up. "Or just sitting there looking pretty," he finished with a heart-stopping grin.

Big enough that I should tie a bow around it and attach a little card that says ‘To: Macy. You’re welcome. Love, Seth.

wash the brush, just beats the devil out of it

All events are blessings given to us to learn from.

You may not be a goddess, but nor am I a god. Despite our mundane lives, perhaps we make our own magic with words.

Sometimes,” Iris began, “I don’t think we know what we’re made of until the worst moment possible happens. Then we must decide who we truly are and what is most important to us. I think we’re often surprised by what we become.

-Do you love this girl ? -I'm fucking crazy about her. -Fucking crazy I've gathered. But I asked if you love her. I'm talking true, enduring, unconditional, hold-her-hair-while-she's-pucking-from-the-morning-sickness love.

Should I be surprised that I was falling in love with you a second time? Should I be surprised that your words found me here, even in the darkness? That I’ve been carrying your E. letters close to my heart like they are a shield to protect me?

Gotta have opposites, light and dark and dark and light, in painting. It’s like in life. Gotta have a little sadness once in awhile so you know when the good times come. I'm waiting on the good times now.

If you feel like you don't fit into the world you inherited it is because you were born to help create a new one.

Stay true to yourself and listen to your inner voice. It will lead you to your dream.

I betrayed you,” Roman began, “because I love her.

Even in the silence, I hope you will find the words you need to share.

There was nothing wrong with Southern California that a rise in the ocean level wouldn't cure.

She was so going to get it later. "Macy, queen of my universe, I beseechingly request you place your sweetest lips upon my manhood and make it your lollipop.

Who needs a fairytale? In the end, I only want to be happy with a guy I love, and who loves me just as much. That’s all I need.

This is your world You’re the creator Find freedom on this canvas Believe, that you can do it, ‘Cuz you can do it. You can do it.

How many people you bless is how you measure success

If you come near him like that again, I will go straight country bitch on you.

Whoever the guy was who taught her to suck c**k, he wanted to buy him a beer and punch his fucking lights out.

You mentioned the other day that you think I’m only here to ‘outshine’ you. But that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I broke my engagement, quit my job, and traveled six hundred kilometers into war-torn land to be with you, Iris.

To be astonished is one of the surest ways of not growing old too quickly.

She walks with grace upon the clouds, and the stars know her by name.

She has to survive this, Roman thought. He didn’t want to live in a world without her and her words.

Believe that you can do it cause you can do it.

There are no mistakes, just happy accidents.

I once thought home was simply a place. Four walls to hold you at night while you slept. But I was wrong. It’s people. It’s being with the ones that you love, and maybe even the ones that you hate.

How do you make your life your own and not feel guilt over it?

I don’t think you realize how strong you are, because sometimes strength isn’t swords and steel and fire, as we are so often made to believe. Sometimes it’s found in quiet, gentle places. The way you hold someone’s hand as they grieve. The way you listen to others. The way you show up, day after day, even when you are weary or afraid or simply uncertain. That is strength, and I see it in you.

How I love to lose to you. How I love to read your words and hear the thoughts that sharpen your mind. And how I would love to be on my knees before you now, surrendering to you and you alone.

Mix up a little more shadow color here, then we can put us a little shadow right in there. See how you can move things around? You have unlimited power on this canvas -- can literally, literally move mountains

Kat picked up a folder labeled Senior. "What are these? Bank records?" She did a double take, looking at Hale. "Did your dad really pay two million dollars to the campaign to elect Ross Perot?" "I..." Hale said, stumbling for words and thumbing through another file. "Wow. I guess my cousin Charlotte isn't really my cousin." "Don't worry," Kat said. "It looks like there might be a kid in Queens who is.

Are you all right, Macy? You looked a little flushed" Just as Macy began to nod quickly, Ghost swigged his beer and jerked his head in her direction. "She looks that way because I have my hand up her skirt.

I love it when you look at me like that,' he murmured, his fingers kneading into the plump flesh of her cheeks, 'How am I looking at you?' she managed. 'Like you want to eat me alive, but you don't have a spoon.

But I realize that people are just people, and they carry their own set of fears, dreams, desires, pains, and mistakes. I can’t expect someone else to make me feel complete; I must find it on my own. And I think I was always writing for myself, to sort through my loss and worry and tangled ambitions. Even now, I think about how effortless it is to lose oneself in words, and yet also find who you are.

في الواقع سوف تفجع دائماً وأبداً. لن تتجاوز موت محب، سوف تتعلم أن تتعايش مع هذه الخسارة. سوف تشفى وتبني نفسك من جديد حول محور الرحيل الذي عانيت منه. سوف تكتمل مجدداً ولكنك لن تعود أنت. لن تكون مثلما السابق. لن تعود أنت ولا يجب أن تتمنى ذلك. تعلم أن تتواصل مع الصمت في داخلك، واعلم أن لكل شيء في الحياة مبتغى. ليس وجوده عن خطأ او عن صدف، كل الأحداث نعم قدمت إلينا لنتعلم منها. الأشخاص الأجمل من بين الذين قابلتهم هم أولئك الذين عرفوا الهزيمة والكفاح والعذاب والخسارة، ووجدوا طريقتهم الخاصة للخروج من الأعماق السحيقة. هؤلاء الأشخاص لهم رؤيتهم وحساسيتهم وفهمهم للحياة. يملؤهم التعاطف والتواضع والبساطة، والقلق المحب العميق. الأشخاص الجميلون لا يأتون من لا شيء.

She and Roman would survive this war. They would have the chance to grow old together, year by year. They would be friends until they both finally acknowledged the truth. And they would have everything that other couples had—the arguments and the hand-holding in the market and the gradual exploration of their bodies and the birthday celebrations and the journeys to new cities and the living as one and sharing a bed and the gradual sense of melting into each other. Their names would be entwined—Roman and Iris or Winnow and Kitt because could you truly have one without the other?—and they would write on their typewriters and ruthlessly edit each other’s pieces and read books by candlelight at night.

There was nothing left for me to do, but go. Though the things of the world were strong with me still. Such as, for example: a gaggle of children trudging through a side-blown December flurry; a friendly match-share beneath some collision-titled streetlight; a frozen clock, a bird visited within its high tower; cold water from a tin jug; towering off one’s clinging shirt post-June rain. Pearls, rags, buttons, rug-tuft, beer-froth. Someone’s kind wishes for you; someone remembering to write; someone noticing that you are not at all at ease. A bloody ross death-red on a platter; a headgetop under-hand as you flee late to some chalk-and-woodfire-smelling schoolhouse. Geese above, clover below, the sound of one’s own breath when winded. The way a moistness in the eye will blur a field of stars; the sore place on the shoulder a resting toboggan makes; writing one’s beloved’s name upon a frosted window with a gloved finger. Tying a shoe; tying a knot on a package; a mouth on yours; a hand on yours; the ending of the day; the beginning of the day; the feeling that there will always be a day ahead. Goodbye, I must now say goodbye to all of it. Loon-call in the dark; calf-cramp in the spring; neck-rub in the parlour; milk-sip at end of day. Some brandy-legged dog proudly back-ploughs the grass to cover its modest shit; a cloud-mass down-valley breaks apart over the course of a brandy-deepened hour; louvered blinds yield dusty beneath your dragging finger, and it is nearly noon and you must decide; you have seen what you have seen, and it has wounded you, and it seems you have only one choice left. Blood-stained porcelain bowl wobbles face down on wood floor; orange peel not at all stirred by disbelieving last breath there among that fine summer dust-layer, fatal knife set down in pass-panic on familiar wobbly banister, later dropped (thrown) by Mother (dear Mother) (heartsick) into the slow-flowing, chocolate-brown Potomac. None of it was real; nothing was real. Everything was real; inconceivably real, infinitely dear. These and all things started as nothing, latent within a vast energy-broth, but then we named them, and loved them, and in this way, brought them forth. And now we must lose them. I send this out to you, dear friends, before I go, in this instantaneous thought-burst, from a place where time slows and then stops and we may live forever in a single instant. Goodbye goodbye good-