Unanswered Love Quotes

I regret nothing. There have been things I missed, but I ask no questions, because I have loved it, such as it has been, even the moments of emptiness, even the unanswered-and that I loved it, that is the unanswered in my life.

I do know that waiting on God requires the willingness to bear uncertainty, to carry within oneself the unanswered question, lifting the heart to God about it whenever it intrudes upon one’s thoughts. Its easy to talk oneself into a decision that has no permanence – easier sometimes than to wait patiently.

It is not love that keeps us stuck in the past. Love fades over time. What introspective hearts seek is simply unanswered questions about why terrible things can happen to very good people. Closure never comes from reflection. It only comes from God's guidance and promptings.

If you're feeling wildly overwhelmed with everything, try this: clean your room, answer all your unanswered emails, listen to a podcast, have a bath, go to bed before eleven.

TO BE GRATEFUL for an unanswered prayer, to give thanks in a state of interior desolation, to trust in the love of God in the face of the marvels, cruel circumstances, obscenities, and commonplaces of life is to whisper a doxology in darkness.

What happened was this: I got an image in my head that never got out. We see a great many things and can remember a great many things, but that is different. We get very few of the true images in our heads of the kind I am talking about, the kind that become more and more vivid for us as if the passage of the years did not obscure their reality but, year by year, drew off another veil to expose a meaning which we had only dimly surmised at first. Very probably the last veil will not be removed, for there are not enough years, but the brightness of the image increases and our conviction increases that the brightness is meaning, or the legend of meaning, and without the image our lives would be nothing except an old piece of film rolled on a spool and thrown into a desk drawer among the unanswered letters.

May you never face them, little one. But her prayed went unanswered. Frankie is a man now. Private Frank Mason Jr. of the Suffolk Regiment. Stationed in Algeria, bravely fighting the Nazis, just as his father fought the Germans before him.

He will forget me. He will leave my letters lying about among guns and dogs unanswered. I shall send him poems and he will perhaps reply with a picture post card. But it is for that that I love him. I shall propose meeting - under a clock, by some Cross; and shall wait, and he will not come. It is for that that I love him. Oblivious, almost entirely ignorant, he will pass from my life. And I shall pass, incredible as it seems, into other lives; this is only an escapade perhaps, a prelude only.

Yes, you loved, and loved so much. You also lost as well, but you lost hurt, pain, agony, and confusion. You’ve lost interest in wanting to know answers to unanswered questions. You’ve lost the willingness to give a shit about what others think. You’ve surrendered to being fine, that you cannot change the things you have no control over.

Everyone grieves differently. No one handles the loss of a loved one the same. Some put on a brave face for others, keeping everything internal. Others let it all out at once and shatter, only to pick up the pieces just as quickly as they came apart. Still others don't grieve at all, implying they are incapable of emotion. Then there are the ones like me, where grief is a badge we wear, where it's hard to let go because we don't want to. We probably wouldn't know how even is we wanted to. There's unanswered questions, unresolved feelings. Tere is anger that this person could even conceive of leaving us behind. We are the furious ones, the ones that scream at the injustice and the pain. We are the ones who obsess and slowly lose rational thought, knowing it is happening but unable to find a way to care. We are the ones who drown.

….I thought we’d be okay apart, but I was sorely mistaken. I don’t need much, Haven, but I do need you.” “I need you, too, you know,” she said. “You make me feel safe.” Despite everything, she trusted him. She believed in him. She loved him. And he loved her . . . more than anything in the world. She had given herself to him again, every barrier between them broken down. All of those unanswered questions, all of the worry, every single bit of it had been resolved the moment they came back together. “Haven,” he said. “If I could have anything, I know what I’d ask for now.” She pulled back from their hug to look at him with genuine curiosity. “What?” Carmine took a step back, reaching around his neck to pull off the gold chain. He unfastened it, removing the small ring, and eyed it in his palm momentarily before dropping to his knee. “If I could have anything in the world, it would be for you to marry me.

Open questions like love, life, death, struggle and sex are our experiences, our opinions are not answers but they still remain mysterious unanswered questions. Let it be Open.

I am smothering myself with unanswered questions because the silence is so loud to the point I cannot think.

O we are wearied of this sense of guilt, Wearied of pleasure's paramour despair, Wearied of every temple we have built, Wearied of every unanswered right, unanswered prayer, For man is weak; God sleeps: and heaven is high: One fiery-colored moment: one great love: and lo! we die.

Hope is not dependent on peace in the land, justice in the world, and success in the business. Hope is willing to leave unanswered questions unanswered and unknown futures unknown. Hope makes you see God’s guiding hand not only in the gentle and pleasant moments but also in the shadows of disappointment and darkness. No one can truly say with certainty where he or she will be ten or twenty years from now. You do not know if you will be free or in captivity, if you will be honored or despised, if you will have many friends or few, if you will be liked or rejected. But when you hold lightly these dreams and fears, you can be open to receive every day as a new day and to live your life as a unique expression of God’s love for humankind. There is an old expression that says, “As long as there is life there is hope.” As Christians we also say, “As long as there is hope there is life.

Love never remains unanswered. When words disappear within the unsaid, the answer will reveal itself.. in silence.. and in time.

If you’re feeling wildly overwhelmed with everything, try this: clean your room, answer all your unanswered emails, listen to a podcast, have a bath, go to bed before eleven.

I am smothering myself with unanswered questions. The silence is so loud to the point I cannot think.

Bold prayers honor God, and God honors bold prayers. God isn’t offended by your biggest dreams or boldest prayers. He is offended by anything less. If your prayers aren’t impossible to you, they are insulting to God. Prayers are prophecies. They are the best predictors of your spiritual future. Who you become is determined by how you pray. Ultimately, the transcript of your prayers becomes the script of your life. The greatest tragedy in life is the prayers that go unanswered because they go unasked. God does not answer vague prayers. The more specific your prayers are, the more glory God receives. Most of us don’t get what we want because we quit praying. We give up too easily. We give up too soon. We quit praying right before the miracle happens. If you don’t take the risk, you forfeit the miracle. Take a step of faith when God gives you a vision because you trust that the One who gave you the vision is going to make provision. And for the record, if the vision is from God, it will most definitely be beyond your means. We shouldn’t seek answers as much as we should seek God. If you seek answers you won’t find them, but if you seek God, the answers will find you. If your plans aren’t birthed in prayer and bathed in prayer, they won’t succeed. Are your problems bigger than God, or is God bigger than your problems? Our biggest problem is our small view of God. That is the cause of all lesser evils. And it’s a high view of God that is the solution to all other problems. Because you know He can, you can pray with holy confidence. Persistence is the magic bullet. The only way you can fail is if you stop praying. 100 percent of the prayers I don’t pray won’t get answered. Where are you most proficient, most sufficient? Maybe that is precisely where God wants you to trust Him to do something beyond your ability. What we perceive as unanswered prayers are often the greatest answers. Our heavenly Father is far too wise and loves us far too much to give us everything we ask for. Someday we’ll thank God for the prayers He didn’t answer as much or more than the ones He did. You can’t pray for open doors if you aren’t willing accept closed doors, because one leads to the other. Just as our greatest successes often come on the heels of our greatest failures, our greatest answers often come on the heels of our longest and most boring prayers. The biggest difference between success and failure, both spiritually and occupationally, is your waking-up time on your alarm clock. We won’t remember the things that came easy; we’ll remember the things that came hard. It’s not just where you end up that’s important; it’s how you get there. Goal setting begins and ends with prayer. The more you have to circle something in prayer, the more satisfying it is spiritually. And, often, the more glory God gets. I don’t want easy answers or quick answers because I have a tendency to mishandle the blessings that come too easily or too quickly. I take the credit or take them for granted. So now I pray that it will take long enough and be hard enough for God to receive all of the glory. Change your prayer approach from as soon as possible to as long as it takes. Go home. Lock yourself in your room. Kneel down in the middle of the floor, and with a piece of chalk draw a circle around yourself. There, on your knees, pray fervently and brokenly that God would start a revival within that chalk circle.

I know Levi is supposed to be my point of contact, but he’s currently sitting on three unanswered emails. I’m not sure how to get him to reply. Use Comic Sans? Write in primary colors?

Most are desperate boys yearning to salve a deep wound. Insignificance. Worthlessness. Social invisibility. This boy has dreamed and prayed, for so long, of someone loving him, noticing him, above all respecting him. Not that he deserves it. He sure doesn’t respect himself. When hope runs dry, prayers unanswered, a fraction of these boys kill themselves. That ends the pain but doesn’t mend the wound. Suicide confirms their pathetic status. But a thunderstroke, desolation of a community, shock across the country—that rates awe. Respect. He is heralded as a mastermind. Everything he craved.

You see Maggie, I realized the importance of our responses to the unanswered prayers. I had a choice to either grow bitter and turn away from God, or walk closer allowing his grace to guide each step. I don't know why some things happen the way they do, but I am sure of this: God is loving, and knows what he's doing.

He shrugged. "It is usually not a pleasant emotion I find myself filled with." "And now? Do you feel it now?" "Oui. It is pleasant. I have no name for it. Can you name yours?" "Oui." I bit my lip. I was hesitant to speak it, as I had always been soundly rebuked for it before. "Love." He took a long breath and studied the horizon. I cringed inwardly. "You are sure?" he asked. "Oui." "You have felt this before?" "Oui, and it has gone unanswered...every time." His eyes were filled with trepidation when they found mine. "Not this time.

O we are wearied of this sense of guilt, Wearied of pleasure’s paramour despair, Wearied of every temple we have built, Wearied of every right, unanswered prayer, For man is weak; God sleeps: and heaven is high: One fiery-coloured moment: one great love; and lo! we die. Ah!

I love the unanswered question, the unresolved story, the unclimbed mountain, the tender shard of an incomplete dream. Most of the time. But is it mandatory for a writer to be ambiguous about everything? Isn't it true that there have been fearful episodes in human history when prudence and discretion would have just been euphemisms for pusillanimity? When caution was actually cowardice? When sophistication was disguised decadence? When circumspection was really a kind of espousal? Isn't it true, or at least theoretically possible, that there are times in the life of a people or a nation when the political climate demands that we—even the most sophisticated of us—overtly take sides? I think such times are upon us.

See, that divine plan shite is what the pulpit-hucksters feed you when things start to go wrong. After they've passed around the collection plate, of course. When your crops fail or your cancer spreads or whatever else you've begged him for doesn't come to pass. That's the solace they'll offer. It's God's will, they'll tell you. Part of the divine plan. What they don't point out is, if he has a plan? There's no sense praying for anything. If His will be done is the golden rule, then God's going to do what he wants, regardless of how hard you beg him. And imagine, just for a second, the sense of entitlement it takes to ask him for anything in the first place. The fucking ego you'd need to think that this is somehow all for you. What if you ask for something that's not his will? You want him to alter the course of the divine plan? For you? See, that's the grift of it all. That's the genius. You get what you pray for? Huzzah, God fucking loves you. But your prayers go unanswered? Just wasn't part of the plan.

It is raining blood today. I open my book and write “Black Lives Matter” to acknowledge the unanswered injustices. I write “Blue Lives Matter” for how can any human be separate from humanity? I write “All Lives Matter” but stare at these words. Do they invalidate the others? I do not know. I am only a love poet. I stand conflicted but the clouds continue to bleed. I come to erase the phrase but find that the blood has already drowned my words.

Sunset, oh sunset, who took the years of my youth. Today you're hiding, maybe last year didn't go so smooth. I've got many questions unanswered and many answers too. You've been with me through joy and pain, I'll spend another moment here with you. When love was in my heart, you were there smiling too. And when it all fell apart, it was again just me and you. As you take another year of my life, may I be able to let it all go to you, take all the memories with it, the time when I was twenty-two. I cannot take regrets, resentment and pain through. With your last rays, light up the candles on my cake. From tomorrow onwards, I'll be a new me, a little more wild or wise, or maybe a bit free.. See you in the morning, the new me will be twenty-three.

There are a world of answers, outside the loop.

8. Marriage is filled with, among other things, laundry and unanswered questions.

I didn’t get that you could love the people you were with while still agonizing over the unanswered questions about the ones you weren’t with.

Shame loves to pair itself with struggle, and it loves to make us believe that it has to stay with us in the unanswered and challenging parts of our stories.

Fathers of the fatherless children, take off the blindfold and see that you are your son’s and daughter’s impediments. You are stealing their identity of what is rightfully theirs. I label you all as “Identity Thieves” because you all have caused a crime; your crime is robbing your children of happiness, feeling loved by you, and not giving them the opportunity to love you in return. You all have robbed your children of a chance at fully building their personality. Instead, they have unanswered questions that will linger on without a direct answer.

Today, my faith has been replaced with questions. I love the way unanswered cosmic questions leave open all possibilities. The universe spreads out in three inscrutable, wondrous dimensions.

And here, at the last, as we sit here among the questions still unanswered and the path you must walk ahead, I pray for your journey as it unfolds into the unknown. I know you feel a bit out of sorts. We all do sometimes. It's okay. Don't be afraid. You are so very loved. I pray you would remember it, know it, live it, breathe it, rest in it: beloved. In the mighty and powerful name of Jesus, Amen.

Leo hurried up to bed and hid under the covers. Under the covers he thought his life through. Although he soon fell asleep he could not sleep her out of his mind. He woke, beating his breast. Though he prayed to be rid of her, his prayers went unanswered. Through days of torment he endlessly struggled not to love her; fearing success, he escaped it. He then concluded to convert her to goodness, himself to God. The idea alternately nauseated and exalted him.

When I asked the Reb, Why do bad things happen to good people?, he gave none of the standard answers. He quietly said, “No one knows.” I admired that. But when I asked if that ever shook his belief in God, he was firm. “I cannot waver,” he said. Well, you could, if you didn’t believe in something all-powerful. “An atheist,” he said. Yes. “And then I could explain why my prayers were not answered.” Right. He studied me carefully. He drew in his breath. “I had a doctor once who was an atheist. Did I ever tell you about him?” No. “This doctor, he liked to jab me and my beliefs. He used to schedule my appointments deliberately on Saturdays, so I would have to call the receptionist and explain why, because of my religion, that wouldn’t work.” Nice guy, I said. “Anyhow, one day, I read in the paper that his brother had died. So I made a condolence call.” After the way he treated you? “In this job,” the Reb said, “you don’t retaliate.” I laughed. “So I go to his house, and he sees me. I can tell he is upset. I tell him I am sorry for his loss. And he says, with an angry face, ‘I envy you.’ “‘Why do you envy me?’ I said. “‘Because when you lose someone you love, you can curse God. You can yell. You can blame him. You can demand to know why. But I don’t believe in God. I’m a doctor! And I couldn’t help my brother!’ “He was near tears. ‘Who do I blame?’ he kept asking me. ‘There is no God. I can only blame myself.’” The Reb’s face tightened, as if in pain. “That,” he said, softly, “is a terrible self-indictment.” Worse than an unanswered prayer? “Oh yes. It is far more comforting to think God listened and said no, than to think that nobody’s out there.

Before signing off, Hall told his wife, “I love you. Sleep well, my sweetheart. Please don’t worry too much.” These would be the last words anyone would hear him speak. Attempts to make radio contact with Hall later that night and the next day went unanswered.

In her mind’s eye, the days and weeks of her time with Julian at the café returned to her: bits of conversations, strange comments, questions unanswered and topics diverted. A pointillism painting she’d been standing too close to; none of it made sense. Now, if she stepped back…

Have you ever been in love, Kiko?” Isobel asks. Tsukiko’s shoulders stiffen as she exhales slowly. For a moment Isobel thinks her question will go unanswered, but then she replies. “I have had affairs that lasted decades and others that lasted hours. I have loved princesses and peasants. And I suppose they loved me, each in their way.

Every action is a losing, a letting go, a passing away from oneself of some bit of one’s own reality into the existence of others and of the world. In Jesus Christ, this character of action is not resisted, by trying to use our action to assert ourselves, extend ourselves, to impose our will and being upon situations. In Jesus Christ, this self-expending character of action is joyfully affirmed. I receive myself constantly from God’s Parenting love. But so far as some aspects of myself are at my disposal, these I receive to give away. Those who would live as Jesus did—who would act and purpose themselves as Jesus did—mean to love, i.e., they mean to expend themselves for others unto death. Their being is meant to pass away from them to others, and they make that meaning the conscious direction of their existence. Too often the love which is proclaimed in the churches suppresses this element of loss and need and death in activity. As a Christian, I often speak of love as helping others, but I ignore what this does to the person who loves. I ignore the fact that love is self-expenditure, a real expending and losing and deterioration of the self. I speak of love as if the person loving had no problems, no needs, no limits. In other words, I speak of love as if the affluent dream were true. This kind of proclamation is heard everywhere. We hear it said: 'Since you have no unanswered needs, why don’t you go out and help those other people who are in need?' But we never hear people go on and add: 'If you do this, you too will be driven into need.' And by not stating this conclusion, people give the childish impression that Christian love is some kind of cornucopia, where we can reach to everybody’s needs and problems and still have everything we need for ourselves. Believe me, there are grown-up persons who speak this kind of nonsense. And when people try to live out this illusory love, they become terrified when the self-expending begins to take its toll. Terror of relationship is [that] we eat each other. But note this very carefully: like Jesus, we too can only live to give our received selves away freely because we know our being is not thereby ended, but still and always lies in the Parenting of our God.... Those who love in the name of Jesus Christ... serve the needs of others willingly, even to the point of being exposed in their own neediness.... They do not cope with their own needs. They do not anguish over how their own needs may be met by the twists and turns of their circumstances, by the whims of their society, or by the strategies of their own egos. At the center of their life—the very innermost center—they are grateful to God, because... they do not fear neediness. That is what frees them to serve the needy, to companion the needy, to become and be one of the needy.

Be honest with yourself. You were at your lowest and broken down. You were unsure and lost hope. You were hiding your fears until you showed them on your sleeve. You felt like everything and everyone was the hammer and you were the nail as they were beating down on you, and it was never-ending. Their empty threats had you scared and you were always running because your weakness was exposed. You were their prey. You didn’t know who to believe because of their mixed signals. You might not see it now, but you are stronger than you can ever imagine. You cannot become comfortable in your pain. You have to let the pain that you feel turn you into a rose without thorns. There are sixteen pieces on the chessboard. The king is the most important piece, but the difference is that the queen is the most powerful piece! You are a queen, you can maneuver around your opponents; they do not have the power over your life, your mind or soul. You might think you’ve been a prisoner, but that is your past’. Look in the now and work your way to how you want your future to be. Exercise your thoughts into a pattern of letting go, and think positively about more of what you want than what you do not want. Queen! You are a queen! As a matter of fact, you are the queen! Act as if you know it! You are powerful, determined, strong, and you can make the biggest and most extravagant move and put it into action. Lights, camera, strike a pose and own it! It is yours to own! Yes, you loved and loved so much. You also lost as well, but you lost hurt, pain, agony, and confusion. You’ve lost interest in wanting to know answers to unanswered questions. You’ve lost the willingness to give a shit about what others think. You’ve surrendered to being fine, that you cannot change the things you have no control over. You’ve lost a lot, but you’ve gained closure. You are now balanced, centered, focused, and filled with peace surrounding you in your heart, mind, body, and soul. Your pride was hurt, but you would rather walk alone and be more willing to give and learn more about the queen you are. You lost yourself in the process, but the more you learn about the new you, the more you will be so much in love with yourself. The more you learn about the new you, the more you will know your worth. The more you learn about the new you, the happier you are going to be, and this time around you will be smiling inside and out! The dots are now connecting. You feel alive! You know now that all is not lost. Now that you’ve cut the cord it is time to give your heart a second chance at loving yourself. Silence your mind. Take a deep breath and close your eyes. As you open your eyes, look at your reflection in the mirror. Aren’t you beautiful, Queen? Embrace who you are. Smile, laugh, welcome the new you and say, “My world is just now beginning.

Anxiety is real. I went through anxiety around a time nobody really cared for it. I was a little girl and black folks are like okay get over over it, toughen up. No, it's real. I had an anxiety attack and it was so bad that I ripped all my close off and ran into the street. But now I'm a completely different person. With time you change and you don't experience that or confusion anymore. You don't care about unanswered questions. You just let it ride.

There is all this fear around being hurt. Hurt by feelings, by loving — knowing that love could be unanswered or worse, given and then taken away. But why? Is it not pain that we credit for our strength? Is it not hurt that peels back the layers to reveal our true self? Is it not in our weakest moments that we discover just how much we can endure? I am not afraid of love, or the scars it may leave behind. Those scars are proof that I have lived. Scars — K

Andrew Murray, a nineteenth-century South African writer, said that “the power of prayer depends almost entirely upon our apprehension of who it is with whom we speak.”1 When we are scared and hurting, when life feels chaotic and out of control, it is more important than ever to anchor ourselves in the absolute and eternal truth that we are dearly loved and deeply held by the most powerful being in the universe. Let this be the great non-negotiable in our lives, the platform for all our other thoughts, and the plumbline for our prayers.

I didn’t know what it was like to not know where someone is, someone who’s intrinsically a part of you; I didn’t know how much a person would want to know where that person was and why they weren’t with you. I didn’t get that you could love the people you were with while still agonizing over the unanswered questions about the ones you weren’t with. And the worst part of all of this is that now I get it, and now I would be so sympathetic to them, and I would help them find their bio family because I get it. But I only get it because they’re not here.

the Christian Science Monitor and the AP. I wrote to the photo desk of the New York Times several times, offering myself up as a stringer, and each time my e-mail went unanswered. I wrote directly to the New York Times correspondents based in India and asked if I could shoot anything for them. They told me they took their own pictures while on assignment. I would keep trying. I felt that if I could only shoot for the New York Times—to me, the newspaper that most influenced American foreign policy and that employed the world’s best journalists—I would reach the pinnacle of my career.

In the Psalms, the life of faith isn’t idyllic, pretty, or easy. It is a walk with God marked by anguish, dread, and grief. The Psalms picture a life where prayers seem to go unanswered, where God seems distant, and where evil seems to be winning. The Psalms welcome us to a faith where God’s agenda is more important than ours and where we are asked to live out our faith in the context of a disastrously broken world. But this is also precisely where we experience the highest personal joys, as we put our hope in the covenant love of the Lord and make the pursuit of his glory the goal of our lives.

When my personal world is falling apart and something or someone precious is at stake, it is frightening when God doesn't show up to hold things together, especially when I'm begging him to come....Christians are great pretenders. We tell ourselves it's not supposed to be this way for Christians, and so we resort to a cover-up....God won't and doesn't participate in this kind of masquerade. ....On every page of the Bible there is recognition that faith encounters troubles. We are broken ourselves and can't escape the brokenness and loss of our fallen world. ....An honest reading [of Job and Naomi's stories] reveals a God who doesn't explain himself. He didn't tell Job about his earlier conversation with Satan and he didn't give Naomi three good reasons why her world fell apart. Both sufferers went to their graves with their whys unanswered and the ache of their losses still intact. But somehow, because they met God in their pain, both also gained a deeper kind of trust in him that weathers adversity and refuses to let go of God. Their stories coax us to get down to the business of wrestling with God instead of chasing rainbows and to employ the same kind of brutal honesty that they did, if we dare.

if God were to place one of those adoption ads, His might say something like this: 'I'll take the person who feels inadequate and mediocre. I'll take the notorious and unworthy. I'll take the person whose misguided quest for fulfillment has gotten her mired in immorality. I'll take the person who's struggling with unanswered questions. I'll take the person who's on the treadmill of trying to prove she's somebody. And I'll provide a depth of love that she can't find in empty sexuality. I'll provide the kind of fulfillment that materialism will never buy. I'll offer satisfaction that will endure even when the accolades stop.

My body. I watch as he shivers, coughing, his body swaying as he starts to collapse. Every single breath is a struggle, and I watch as he gasps for air, trying desperately to fill his lungs. And every breath he gets, he gives to me. “He’s breathing for you,” Abby says as my chest expands again. With each breath he blows into my lungs, the view in front of me grows more and more vivid. I can see his face turning blue, every breath painful. “Will,” I whisper, watching as he struggles to push the air through my body. “He really loves you, Stell,” Abby says, watching. As the scene sharpens, she fades. I turn to her, frantic, feeling again the loss that keeps me up at night. The unanswered question. Abby smiles at me, shaking her head, already far ahead of me. “It didn’t hurt. I wasn’t scared.

Out in the cold I stand, Looking on at the world sitting tight, With its people in their nice little worlds, And the friends who don’t even know me. It really makes no difference to their world where I am. If I'm there, it keeps going. If I’m not, it goes on. While I walk around, wandering, wondering, My mind a mass of mixed-up machinery, Clashing with conflicts and unanswered questions. I don’t ask the world if it is real- It sits up there on its foundations, Secure, concrete, hard, stone and real. But maybe I’m not real Or if I am, maybe I shouldn’t be. They answer, ‘Smile, God loves you’, But I can’t smile. I’m numbed by cold inside and out. Even the heat in the square brick buildings Would only warm my body, nothing else. I’m alone in a world full of people, Apart, shut up inside myself, Cold, unfeeling, in a cold unfeeling world.

One of the problems, ironically, can be prayer. In prayer, we set our hopes high and call it faith. We pray for the perfect spouse, healthy children, successful careers, and serene families. We don’t just wish for these things but actually train ourselves to expect them! We fear the worst if we should ever lower our sights. Yet this is false faith. The apostle Paul longed not just “to know Christ . . . [and] the power of his resurrection,” but also “the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings” (Phil. 3:10 NIV 1984). The Christian witness and our ultimate hope is not merely a miraculous succession of miraculous escapes from all human affliction. Rather it is the joy of a deepening relationship with the “man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering” (Isa. 53:3 NIV 1984) who loves us and lives in us. I’m not suggesting that we should pray for hard times but rather that when such times come, we should feel a little less outrage and a lot more hope because Jesus, who went through similar struggles, predicted that we would have them and promised to be with us in the midst of them.

In the same vein, Rupert knew that he'd found his own ideal match,too. He just couldn't imagine how he was going to convince her of it. But that wasn't what he was thinking about on the ride home. Unable to take his eyes off of his wife,he said, "There's something about riding in a coach with you that drives me crazy." Rebecca's dark blue eyes flared, but she didn't protest when he moved across to her seat and gathered her into his arms. Catching his wife off guard did have its advantages, which was fortunate, because she really did inflame his passions without even trying. One heady taste of her and most of his control was gone. "Could it be because we nearly made love in this coach before?" he said against her lips. "Or could it be because I suspect you were sitting here earlier tonight thinking of me with my breeches off?" Rebecca gasped but he just thrust his tongue deeply inside her until she no longer seemed to feel like upbraiding him for that teasing remark. He loved teasing her. It was too bad she was rarely in a mood for it. Unfortunately,she didn't let his remark go unanswered, though they were nearly home before she pulled away from his arms to say breathlessly, "I was doing nothing of the sort.

I've been meaning to ask," Breckenridge said, "jus how you came to topple backward off that rail." He looked at her. "What with one thing and another, the point slipped my mind." Heather met his gaze. "Mine, too." he read her eyes, then, brows rising, looked in the direction in which the twins had gone. "Ah. Perhaps that's one of those questions that are better off left unasked." "It's certainly one of those better left unanswered." Sliding her hand from his and retaking his arm, she started them strolling again. Breckenridge was quiet for a while, then he looked up at the manor and said, "Will you think it odd of me to suggest that we should, perhaps, leave the Vale and your sometimes unnerving relatives by marriage as soon as we possibl can?" "How about tomorrow?" She glanced up at his face. He caught her gaze. "Immediately after breakfast. It's too late to set out today." She nodded. "Indeed." She looked ahead. "And besides I have plans for tonight." "Do you?" "Of course." She met his gaze, her own filled with love and unexpected understanding. "The announcement you made a few minutes ago deserves and appropriate response, don't you think?" He inclined his head. "Indubitably." After a moment, he added, "Who knows? With the right form of response, you might even induce me to utter the words again." She laughed. "A challenge." She met his gaze. "A challenge we can wrestle with, wrestle over back and forth, for the rest of our days." "Indeed." He held her loving gaze, raised her fingers to his lips. "For the rest of our days.

Her eyes were closed so tightly that you could see her long-curled eyelashes pointed skyward, in her baby blue coffin. She was an angel to look at even at that moment. I knew that she was looking over all of us! In addition to that, she was most likely looking at him and holding his hands with her spiritual touch, I could just feel it. He said that he felt the breeze of her presents. He was crying hysterically from his hazel almost jade green eyes! I remember he said that he was secretly in love with Jaylynn back to when she was a little girl. That he never got the chance to say that to her in person. I remember him placing one pink daisy in her box on top of her small, yet perky upward-facing breasts next to her motionless heart; with the bloom under her chin and her slight smile. Along with that, then he slid an engraved promise ring on her finger as well; at that moment… one of his teardrops fell from his eyes on her petite hand, as he was holding it… not wanting to ever let go of her. That is love… if I ever did see it. Greg also whispered to me, that he never even got to kiss her as he always hoped to do, and that she was everything that he was looking for in a girl. Furthermore, he would never look for anyone else. That she was the one, and the only! The only thing I could say was; I thank you and follow your heart, and she will be watching over you. Then he walked away… I never saw him again after that. You know I don't even know his last name. Still, I will always remember his face, and the look that was upon it that day, he was devastated. So, someone did care about her, someone truly loved her, and adored her, and it was taken away from him too. Why! Why oh God, why? Why didn’t she see this when she was alive? ‘Why is a question that has no answers, only just more unanswered questions?

Only then comes the fourth and last movement, the Adagio, the final farewell. It takes the form of a prayer, Mahler's last chorale, his closing hymn, so to speak; and it prays for the restoration of life, of tonality, of faith. This is tonality unashamed, presented in all aspects ranging from the diatonic simplicity of the hymn tune that opens it through every possible chromatic ambiguity. It's also a passionate prayer, moving from one climax to another, each more searing than the last. But there are no solutions. And between these surges of prayer there is intermittently a sudden coolness, a wide-spaced transparency, like an icy burning — a Zen-like immobility of pure meditation. This is a whole other world of prayer, of egoless acceptance. But again, there are no solutions. "Heftig ausbrechend!" he writes, as again the despairing chorale breaks out with greatly magnified intensity. This is the dual Mahler, flinging himself back into his burning Christian prayer, then again freezing into his Eastern one. This vacillation is his final duality. In the very last return of the hymn he is close to prostration; it is all he can give in prayer, a sobbing, sacrificial last try. But suddenly this climax fails, unachieved — the one that might have worked, that might have brought solutions. This last desperate reach falls short of its goal, subsides into a hint of resignation, then another hint, then into resignation itself. And so we come to the final incredible page. And this page, I think, is the closest we have ever come, in any work of art, to experiencing the very act of dying, of giving it all up. The slowness of this page is terrifying: Adagissimo, he writes, the slowest possible musical direction; and then langsam (slow), ersterbend (dying away), zögernd (hesitat-ing); and as if all those were not enough to indicate the near stoppage of time, he adds äusserst langsam (extremely slow) in the very last bars. It is terrifying, and paralyzing, as the strands of sound disintegrate. We hold on to them, hovering between hope and submission. And one by one, these spidery strands connecting us to life melt away, vanish from our fingers even as we hold them. We cling to them as they dematerialize; we are holding two-then one. One, and suddenly none. For a petrifying moment there is only silence. Then again, a strand, a broken strand, two strands, one ... none. We are half in love with easeful death ... now more than ever seems it rich to die, to cease upon the midnight with no pain ... And in ceasing, we lose it all. But in letting go, we have gained everything.

To lose the simple years of your life is to lose your soul. Some say don’t look back, but if there is love and laughter behind you, look homeward from time to time. Draw strength from your mistakes, your accomplishments, your losses, your awkward years, your unanswered prayers. Draw strength from the magnificent landscape of your youth.

Do try it on,” Cassandra urged. Despite Kathleen’s refusal, the girls insisted on draping it over her shoulders, just to see how it looked. “How beautiful,” Helen said, beaming. It was the most luxurious fabric she had ever felt, the fleece soft and cushiony. Kathleen ran her hand across the rich hues, and sighed. “I suppose I can’t ruin it with aniline dye,” she muttered. “But I’m going to tell him that I did.” “You’re going to lie?” Cassandra asked, her eyes wide. “That’s not setting a very good example for us.” “He must be discouraged from sending unsuitable gifts,” Kathleen said. “It’s not his fault if he doesn’t know any better,” Pandora pointed out. “He knows the rules,” Kathleen said darkly. “And he enjoys breaking them.” My Lord, It was very kind of you to send the lovely gift which is very useful now that the weather has turned. I am pleased to relate that the cashmere absorbed an application of black dye quite evenly so that it is now appropriate for mourning. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. Lady Trenear “You dyed it?” Devon asked aloud, setting the note on his desk with mixture of amusement and irritation. Reaching for a silver penholder, he inserted a fresh nib and pulled a sheet of writing paper from a nearby stack. That morning he had already written a half-dozen missives to lawyers, his banker, and contractors, and had hired an outside agent to analyze the estate’s finances. He grimaced at the sight of his ink-stained fingers. The lemon-and-salt paste his valet had given him wouldn’t entirely remove the smudges. He was tired of writing, and even more so of numbers, and Kathleen’s letter was a welcome distraction. The challenge could not go unanswered.

My Lord, It was very kind of you to send the lovely gift which is very useful now that the weather has turned. I am pleased to relate that the cashmere absorbed an application of black dye quite evenly so that it is now appropriate for mourning. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. Lady Trenear “You dyed it?” Devon asked aloud, setting the note on his desk with mixture of amusement and irritation. Reaching for a silver penholder, he inserted a fresh nib and pulled a sheet of writing paper from a nearby stack. That morning he had already written a half-dozen missives to lawyers, his banker, and contractors, and had hired an outside agent to analyze the estate’s finances. He grimaced at the sight of his ink-stained fingers. The lemon-and-salt paste his valet had given him wouldn’t entirely remove the smudges. He was tired of writing, and even more so of numbers, and Kathleen’s letter was a welcome distraction. The challenge could not go unanswered. Staring down at the letter with a faint smile, Deon pondered the best way to annoy her. Dipping the pen nib into the inkwell, he wrote, Madam, I am delighted to learn that you find the shawl useful in these cooler days of autumn. On that subject, I am writing to inform you of my recent decision to donate all the black curtains that currently shroud the windows at Eversby Priory to a London charitable organization. Although you will regrettably no longer have use of the cloth, it will be made into winter coats for the poor, which I am sure you will agree is a far nobler purpose. I am confident in your ability to find other ways of making the atmosphere at Eversby Priory appropriately grim and cheerless. If I do not receive the curtains promptly, I will take it to mean that you are eager for my assistance, in which case I will be delighted to oblige you by coming to Hampshire at once. Trenear Kathleen’s reply was delivered a week later, along with massive crates containing the black curtains.

You didn’t have to keep watch all night,” I said. “I wasn’t going to run away, you know.” “We don’t know,” Castor said. “We know nothing about you anymore, Helen. What in the name of all-seeing Apollo were you thinking, coming on this voyage, pretending to be a boy, doing something this--this--” He threw his hands up in frustration and blurted, “You must be as crazy as Herakles!” “Little sister, you could have died.” Polydeuces could hardly get the words out. “All of those days at sea, all the dangers, the raiders in Thrace, the bandits of the Clashing Rocks, even a simple misstep, like the one that killed poor Hylas--” His voice broke. He drew a ragged breath and added, “Why, Helen?” If I answered, would they understand? Their lives were always their own. They never had to fight for their liberty. When Jason came to Delphi seeking heroes, they joined his crew without asking anyone’s permission. No one demanded that they justify their choices. If you asked them why they had so much freedom, they’d react as if you wanted to know why the sky is blue. I’d be queen of Sparta one day. I’d marry because it would be my duty to have children and provide the land with its next ruler. If I was lucky, I’d choose my husband wisely and we’d love one another. But between You must do this because you’re a princess and You must never do that because you’re a girl, there was no time left for Do what you like, because you’re Helen. This quest, this adventure, might be my only chance to see what it meant to be myself. What would my brothers say if I told them that? “Don’t call me ‘Helen,’” I said firmly, brushing Polydeuces’ question aside unanswered. “Helen of Sparta wouldn’t be on this ship. I’m Atalanta.” “I was wrong. You’re crazier than Herakles,” Castor said.

Even when we can pinpoint “something good” that came out of a tragedy, it never balances out what we have lost. How could anything compensate Naomi for the loss of her husband and sons? What could possibly make up for Job’s losses of his children and his workers? Can any trade-off fill the void in a woman’s heart when her longings for a child go unanswered and her husband rejects her and turns to another woman? No, the balance sheet always comes up short when we try to confine God in some delicate balancing act where the physical blessings we receive match and somehow overcome our losses.

Never think God does not love you because of what He does not give you. Unanswered prayers can be your greatest blessings. Have faith; God knows what is best for you.

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life thinking “Is this my great love story?” because I want more. I deserve more. I don’t want calls that go unanswered or texts that are never read. I don’t want to spend holidays, or any day, begging someone to choose me.

The old man smiled at me, dark eyes twinkling over his spectacles. ‘I think God has already sent us angels enough, mon ami. But I shall pray he watch over us this night nevertheless.’ “‘And what’s the point of that, priest?’ “Rafa blinked. ‘What is the point of—’ “‘Praying. Oui.’ “The old man looked at me as if I’d asked the point of breathing. ‘I…’ “‘Two soldiers stand on a field of battle,’ I told him. ‘Both are convinced God is on their side. Both pray to their Lord and Redeemer to smite their enemy low, and to the Mothermaid to protect them from all harm. But somebody’s going to lose. Somebody’s wasting their fucking time. Maybe, just maybe … it’s both of them?’ “The priest frowned. ‘God cannot be said to be on the side of the Dead.’ “‘You’re missing the point, old man. All on earth below and hea’en above is the work of my hand…’ “‘… And all the work of my hand is in accord with my plan.’ “‘You think those refugees we met on the road didn’t pray with everything they had to not lose their homes? You think Lachlunn á Cuinn didn’t pray for his wife and son to stay alive? See, that divine plan shite is what the pulpit-hucksters feed you when things start to go wrong. After they’ve passed around the collection plate, of course. When your crops fail or your cancer spreads or whatever else you’ve begged him for doesn’t come to pass. That’s the solace they’ll offer. It’s God’s will, they’ll tell you. Part of the divine plan. “‘What they don’t point out is, if he has a plan? There’s no sense praying for anything. If His will be done is the golden rule, then God’s going to do what he wants, regardless of how hard you beg him. And imagine, just for a second, the sense of entitlement it takes to ask him for anything in the first place. The fucking ego you’d need to think that this is somehow all for you. What if you ask for something that’s not his will? You want him to alter the course of the divine plan? For you? See, that’s the grift of it all. That’s the genius. You get what you pray for? Huzzah, God fucking loves you. But your prayers go unanswered?’ I snapped my fingers. ‘Just wasn’t part of the plan.

The distance between two hearts can be measured not in miles, but in the silence of unanswered calls. The true measure of separation between two hearts lies not in the physical distance, but in the depth of connection and the endurance of the heart's journey.” - NIRVANA: RAGA • DVESHA • MOHA

While some children are preoccupied with trying to get and keep their parents’ attention, others give up trying to connect. As Bowlby (1961) explained, after a child’s protests go repeatedly unanswered, or are mostly responded to harshly, the child experiences despair. Then, when he finally gives up all hope of being reassured and protected, he detaches—attempting to deactivate his attachment system by shutting down his emotions and his need for a caregiver—and becomes extremely self-reliant. As an adult, he is unlikely to experience the closeness that comes with romantic relationships. This characterizes the dismissing style of attachment.

If the genuineness of affection and its oestrus are emotionally combined and enamoured with normalization synonymous, then the meaning of antithesis indicates static completion, because the intimacy of that adjacency is always deeply established in your heart theme; absolute juxtaposition is only a worldly method. This is the standardization landscape, in its true sense, love extracting veneration and votress of inner closeness, not outer. This does not overflow emptiest power; it does not text from undesiccated form. Unconditionally, this is the restricted adjacent without assimilation of unconventionally imbibing in your soul affirmation and mind state. The worthy sponsorship of allured is a strong knot of intimacy, where the worldly conditions are a very subtle necessity; it is the worship of your beloved, which is beyond even the five elements. You get excited and absorbed in it and do not want to exit, for this is your adored and favored. This is a fraternal propensity of predilection; you are in the quality of being charming and gingerbread without irrevancy. This will ever be unanimity, whereas unassisted, you will not be asserted of unanswered acting in it.

Just like there are dishes you can cook up in a jiffy and ones that take more time and care. I've prayed some pretty big prayers over the years that seemed to go unanswered. And if I wasn't careful, I could start to believe that God didn't love me because he didn't give me what I'd asked for. I had to learn that my faith shouldn't depend on whether or not God answers my prayers exactly the way I want Him to.

And then there is this jewel with its many facets of wisdom. It’s not difficult to imagine the breadth and depth of this sentiment – at least where astuteness and faith are an inseparable dynamic duo running rampant: “…while God does listen, knowing what He knows about us, and how well we take disappointment, often He will find a way to save us all the heartache and trouble we unwittingly plead and beseech and continually pester him for; ever a loving, wise Father, He will just simply answer, 'no,' by default; by not answering, 'yes,' no matter how passionately we fail to understand the importance of His not acquiescing to our every whim.

In the heart, silence becomes an echo of unanswered needs

Sadly Single [10w] Single lives envelop the sadness of an unanswered love letter.

This does not mean that God never heals in miraculous ways; I am certain that at times He does. But there are also many times when He does not. We cannot understand why some people appear to glide effortlessly through life, while others always seem to be in the throes of pain and sorrow. We cannot explain why some withered bodies are healed, while others suffer and die. We cannot know why some prayers are answered the way we hoped they would be, while others seemingly go unanswered. We cannot pretend that life in Christ will always guarantee us victory and material success as defined by human standards. On the other hand, when we tell only the stories of victory, we tell just a part of the truth. When we imply that the Christian faith involves no yoke and no burden, we tell less than the whole truth. Half-truths and easy answers are the weapons of deceit. Sometimes God brings healing, either through modern medicine or through miraculous means. But sometimes He doesn’t—and His way is always best, because He loves us and knows what is best for us. Never forget: for the Christian, this life is not all, nor should our physical well-being be our life’s highest goal. Christ is our life, and someday we will go to be with Him for all eternity.

Once you are in love, you remain always in love, sometimes fulfilled and most of the times unfulfilled and broken but you remain in love. Beauty of love is to find a way when you feel there is no way to get out of the dark room. I find it more beautiful and accomplished when you are broken but you still remain in love , i find it more astonishing when he/she left you alone but you still accompany him everywhere, I find it more hedonistic when you manage to have a beautiful smile which has struggled through tears.You may say that your beloved has cheated you, your prince charming lied you, your princess sell down the river, though you have done more than that you could do and one question which is even more painful than being slaughtered is WHY SHE/HE DID THIS TO ME which remains always unanswered. This makes your life wretchedness and see who is responsible ....No not your beloved/prince/princess its you only who is in search of something which will make no difference in your life. Let them go if they want to go, if they are happy with someone else, don't beg for the love, let the love come to you automatically.You deserve to be happy, respected and much better in your life. It is difficult to remain in love when someone suddenly disappear from your life but trust me once you understand that you have really loved them, once you understand that their state of being happy is what you always wished for is more important than that they are with you unhappy or betraying you, once you understand that life has always something better for you, once you understand the value of being lively and happy ,,,,,YOU WON'T HATE HER/HIM AGAIN IN LIFE FOR STABBING YOUR BACK ....FORGIVENESS IS THE BEST MEDICINE FOR THE PEACE OF YOUR HEART & DO REMEMBER YOUR HEART DESERVES PEACE NOT THE PIECES. Love is the best thing you can cater to yourself instead of asking from someone else.

…while God does listen, knowing what He knows about us, and how well we take disappointment, often he'll find a way to save us all the heartache and trouble we unwittingly plead and beseech and continually pester him for; ever a loving, wise Father, he will just simply answer, “no,” by default, by not answering “yes.

I. 2003 We’ll get no younger, and wishing cannot make it so, eternal sunshine: I am halfway between loving you and leaving you behind, the soul’s atrophy, prayers unanswered, wishes resigned to apathy, reflecting your being,

We’ll get no younger, and wishing cannot make it so, eternal sunshine: I am halfway between loving you and leaving you behind, the soul’s atrophy, prayers unanswered, wishes resigned to apathy, reflecting your being,

But now I fear the walls may be breached, the shell cracked.  Our family is cracking, fear and anxiety haunt our dreams, unanswered questions hover on our lips.  How will we stay strong, stay together? I have been here before, suffered through this once already – and this is a suffering too much for one man to bear.  And so my failures haunt me. I can see their eyes at night, shining in the darkness, accusing me of my greatest failure, failure to protect those that I love.  What more damning accusation can there be?  How can I sleep not knowing where my darlings are, that they are gone because of me, that in their hour of need I was not there?  But now I must again head out into the wicked world to find another, guide them to our home, welcome them to the bosom of our family.

Lord, if you patiently bore the pain of unanswered prayer for my sake, then I can be patient with what seems to be unanswered prayer for your sake. The cross proves that you love me and so I can trust that you are listening to me and handling my request the way I would want if I had your wisdom. Amen.

Jesus knew—and knows still—the pain of unanswered prayer when he asked if another way could be found to save us besides the agony of the cross (Luke 22:42). God answered that prayer by saying, in effect, “There is no other way to save them. . . . If they are to be saved, I must not save you.” This not only answers the question: Is there any other way to be saved besides Jesus? (No.) It is also the ultimate comfort when we sense no answer to our prayers. Prayer: Lord, if you patiently bore the pain of unanswered prayer for my sake, then I can be patient with what seems to be unanswered prayer for your sake. The cross proves that you love me and so I can trust that you are listening to me and handling my request the way I would want if I had your wisdom. Amen.

I understood how the death of a loved one plagued the living, especially if there was discord or unanswered questions. It was our nature as humans to put things in their rightful places, to tidy up our relationships before we could part with them. Otherwise, we spent our time thinking, “could have, should have, if only I had done this or that.” It could drive a person nuts dreaming of alternate endings.

would like to express my gratitude to every media person present here who came on such a short notice”, he began addressing the gathering. “As you all know that there have been a few unanswered questions in the recent past which has left the entire nation wondering as to what is wrong with this lovely old man. It has been so many years now that I have built one of the

A story is built from the things that did not happen as much as from the things that did. Evolution is a history of failures; kingdoms fall because fear stills hearts; love wilts for words left unspoken. Sometimes it blossoms for the same. If each of us is a story, then we are the story of the things we did not do. We are the shadows of quelled urges; negative imprints of missed trains, ignored smiles and unanswered letters. We are the unwritten ink, coloured with events that never occurred. And

Through His Eyes" In the quiet of dawn, a young boy stands alone, With questions unanswered, in a sorrowful tone. His mother's silent battle, a war she couldn't survive, Left a scar on his heart, questioning why she took her life. "Why, oh why?" was the question he cried, Underneath the open, endless sky. I was speechless, for the first time, I found, A shared pain where silence was the only sound. I've been to the edge, where hope seems to die, Never thinking of the ones I'd leave behind. But through his eyes, I saw the light, A reason to fight, to make it right. It's hard to explain why some stars have to go, Why we face storms that shake us so. But I told him, "Her love is a bond that won't sever, She's watching over you, now and forever." "Why, oh why?" still echoes inside, But now I know, it's not for us to decide. We're here for a reason, not just to survive, But to cherish each moment we're alive. So thank you, young man, for the tears we both shed, For the lesson of life, from the words left unsaid. We're more than our sorrows, more than our fears, We're the sum of our love, through all the years.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life thinking "Is this my great love story?" because I want more. I deserve more. I don't want calls that go unanswered or texts that are never read. I don't want to spend holidays, or any day, begging someone to choose me. I deserve someone who chooses me without question. Someone who loves me without doubt.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life thinking "Is this my great love story?" because I want more. I deserve more. I don't want calls that go unanswered or texts that are never read. I don't want to spend holidays, or any day, begging someone to choose me. I deserve someone who choose me without question. Someone who loves me without doubt.

Never think God does not love you because of what He does not give you. Unanswered prayers can be your greatest blessings. Have faith, God knows what is best for you.

25. If you’re feeling wildly overwhelmed with everything, try this: clean your room, answer all your unanswered emails, listen to a podcast, have a bath, go to bed before eleven.

Solitude becomes powerful in its richness for the senses are heightened, transforming you from a mere insensitive flesh to a softened soul, so you live a scented life, drunkenly intoxicated, and every unanswered prayer is made peace with, every unsightly detail is turned to a piece of beauty....

What did one do when one was still madly in love with one’s wife but she had now temporarily misplaced the heart she had been given?

See, that divine plan shite is what the pulpit-hucksters feed you when things start to go wrong. After they've passed around the collection plate, of course. When your crops fail or your cancer spreads or whatever else you've begged him for doesn't com to pass. That's the solace they'll offer. It's God's will, they'll tel you. Part of the divine plan. "What they don't point out is, if he has a plan? There's no sense praying for anything. If His will be done is the golden rule, then God's going to do what he wants, regardless of how hard you beg him. And imagine, just for a second, the sense of entitlement it takes to ask him for anything in the first place. The fucking ego you'd need to think that this is somehow all for you. What if you ask for something thats; not his will? You want him to alter the course of the divine plan? Fo you? See, that's the grift of it all. That's the genius. You get what you pray for? Huzzah, God fucking loves you. But your prayers go unanswered?" I snapped my finger. "Just wasn't part of the plan.

I will love you to ruination,' the Fairy King said, brushing a strand of golden hair form my cheek. 'Yours of mine?' I asked. The Fairy King did not answer.

Accept the mystery, said the minister of the local church. If you can love God even though your questions go unanswered, you’ll be the better for it. Admit

She heard the doors of the cellar groan as Lilla worked the lock behind her. Her screams of fury and betrayal went unanswered. “You are too important, my love,” Lilla said as Brela was dragged past her. And then Tybost dropped her inside.

Messages read, unanswered messages, deep messages, messages between lines. messages in ellipses ...

Dear Goodreads diary, Thanks for receiving me all this time with hands wide open… Thanks for being patient to listen to all my gibberish. Still, I gotta go now. I’ll be absent for some time… But I want to tell you one last story… 2 years ago, a little boy came to me and asked for my help. He was desperate and tired of his life. He asked for my friendship and I was reluctant to accept his offer. I’ve always denied his emails or text messages. I know that boys are BASTARDS, though he looked like a little bird, lost and without wings…The way he talks in missing and dreams, oh GOD I wanna forget about all… it disgusts me each time to remember that he didn’t respect that I’m a conservative girl and tried his ways on me even though I’ve always asked him to stop it…. I mean, I’m 5 years older than him…. His father got sick. They reaaaaaaaally needed help. Though I’ve always known he was a “bastard” like everybody else, I couldn’t possibly leave his mom’s calls unanswered when she always asked for my help. I’ve been through all they’ve been through. I couldn’t give up on them while I knew how much it means to stand for someone who’s been tested for his father. I’m an orphan. How could I possibly walk away? + Our dear Prophet (PBUH) would never treat a misdeed with a misdeed…I’m a girl who loves GOD…I wouldn’t be as mean as him… Still, each time he was acting like bastards act. That meanness I can read in his text messages. That DISRESPECT…. I knew he used every possible memory for his ulterior motives. I kept silent for two years…I knew he was making a show… I mean even if he wasn’t making it because he saw something in me (that everybody saw, not only him), he would be making a show for his friends … Still, I’m not the one who would leave a friend in the middle of the dark…at one point in time, I called him brother…. hhh…. Thought maybe if he knows that I’m his older sister, he’ll think that the way he talked or the things he asked are things you only ask from a girlfriend and not me… he persisted…. I tested him once and he like a fool fell into the trap… I knew I should walk away even if I’d hear that his father would die… I spent whole night throwing in my disbelief…. How could people be so tricky…I’m 5 years older…. Eventually, he made his show… Thank GOD, a colleague… a mouthy colleague… started talking about everyone at school including me and him…that was heaven’s door wide open for me. Though 14 years ago, my friends started talking about me and another boy, I wouldn’t leave him for the world because I knew he was a decent boy… This time, I dived in… One month later, he came into my class not caring what my colleagues would talk…That made me sure that he wants to carry his show over… You know diary, what kills a person the most is not death. Hurt can kill…deception can kill…not apologizing can kill… Bad memories can kill…and I didn’t want to leave him with bad memories…I sent my last text message, told him to fulfill all his dreams and said goodbye…. Still I’ve never felt relieved… I texted him again, faced him with the facts, he thought he fooled me again….I said sorry and goodbye… forever…I waited for some time and then I quit my job so they don’t understand a thing about my motives… I spent two amazing months home; that I would always remember because they’ve changed me a lot…They brought me back to life again…But when I came back, all the bad memories came back again… Dear diary, I know you’ve got tired of my complaints, but I have nobody else to talk to the way I talk to you… I need to forget all the bad memories he left me with… I know I CAN, but I need some time away from you…Even though he’s like a “tafcha” in my life now… still, I have to forgive him… I’m not someone who would spend her time hating people…People like me talk in books and ideas in their social networks… Wait for me diary…I’ll be back…

We didn’t keep a list of prayers that had obviously gone unanswered, because we believed that if God said no, there was a good reason, and it was just as much a sign of his love as when he said yes.

What did you gain from marriage?” wondered Sean. “My false freedom!” “(Astonished) Why false freedom? (Apprehensively) Nobody shall touch my freedom!” “Nobody will touch it! It is not always how you think it is; that someone would nag at you or interfere in your life.. You will kill your freedom by your own hands, that partner will be your concern; what she is doing, what she is going to do, what she thinks, what and where and why. Even if you raised the flag of indifference, you will always have an unanswered question. Maybe for your dignity, love, pride, jealousy, or preference.. You may experience it someday!

But if the night’s events hadn’t made sense then, they made even less sense now. And five years had served only to drive him mad with unanswered questions.

How free am I? Don’t I skulk like a rat through trainyards? Don’t I doze in boxcars with my boots on and without a sleeping bag, so that I can disappear more quickly when emergency strikes? Don’t I long for my train to move? How I love shadow-shows! Particularly beguiling is the way that freeway overpasses fill a rushing boxcar’s doorway with silhouetted diagonals. Do I love shadows because I fear the third dimension? Am I a writer and a printmaker in an effort to control my perception of the world by constricting it to my level? And aren’t all these questions, which rush through my mind and depart unanswered, nothing but shadow-shows themselves?