Vases Motivational Quotes

FIDELITY AND BETRAYAL He loved her from the time he was a child until the time he accompanied her to the cemetery; he loved her in his memories as well. That is what made him feel that fidelity deserved pride of place among the virtues: fidelity gave a unity to lives that would otherwise splinter into thousands of split-second impressions. Franz often spoke about his mother to Sabina, perhaps even with a certain unconscious ulterior motive: he assumed that Sabina would be charmed by his ability to be faithful, that it would win her over. What he did not know was that Sabina was charmed more by betrayal than by fidelity. The word fidelity reminded her of her father, a small-town puritan, who spent his Sundays painting away at canvases of woodland sunsets and roses in vases. Thanks to him, she started drawing as a child. When she was fourteen, she fell in love with a boy her age. Her father was so frightened that he would not let her out of the house by herself for a year. One day, he showed her some Picasso reproductions and made fun of them. If she couldn't love her fourteen-year-old schoolboy, she could at least love cubism. After completing school, she went off to Prague with the euphoric feeling that now at last she could betray her home. Betrayal. From tender youth, we are told by father and teacher that betrayal is the most heinous offense imaginable. But what is betrayal? Betrayal means breaking ranks. Betrayal means breaking ranks and going off into the unknown. Sabina knew of nothing more magnificent than going off into the unknown. Though a student at the Academy of Fine Arts, she was not allowed to paint like Picasso. It was the period when so-called socialist realism was prescribed and the school manufactured Portraits of Communist statesmen. Her longing to betray her father remained unsatisfied: Communism was merely another father, a father equally strict and limited, a father who forbade her love (the times were puritanical) and Picasso, too. And if she married a second-rate actor, it was only because he had a reputation for being eccentric and was unacceptable to both fathers. Then her mother died. The day following her return to Prague from the funeral, she received a telegram saying that her father had taken his life out of grief. Suddenly she felt pangs of conscience: Was it really so terrible that her father had painted vases filled with roses and hated Picasso? Was it really so reprehensible that he was afraid of his fourteen-year-old daughter's coming home pregnant? Was it really so laughable that he could not go on living without his wife? And again she felt a longing to betray: betray her own betrayal. She announced to her husband (whom she now considered a difficult drunk rather than an eccentric) that she was leaving him. But if we betray B., for whom we betrayed A., it does not necessarily follow that we have placated A. The life of a divorcee-painter did not in the least resemble the life of the parents she had betrayed. The first betrayal is irreparable. It calls forth a chain reaction of further betrayals, each of which takes us farther and farther away from the point of our original betrayal.

Then a spotlight came on over a table near the front of the room. It had a white tablecloth and there was a single red rose in a vase with a yellow ribbon tied around the top. A place setting with an upside down glass, a single candle, and an empty chair completed the setup. The lights dimmed and a man at the front of the room began to speak. “The cloth is white—symbolizing the purity of their motives when answering the call to serve. The single red rose reminds us of the lives of these Americans…and their loved ones and friends who keep the faith, while seeking answers. The yellow ribbon symbolizes our continued uncertainty, hope for their return and determination to account for them. A slice of lemon reminds us of their bitter fate, captured and missing in a foreign land. A pinch of salt symbolizes the tears of our missing and their families—who long for answers after decades of uncertainty. The lighted candle reflects our hope for their return—alive or dead. The glass is inverted—to symbolize their inability to share a toast. The chair is empty—they are missing. A moment of silence for the lost heroes.

I struck out into the night searching for you. For the entire night, I searched through stormy gales, frigid blizzards and scorching deserts. Condition much greater than what any man could have bore on his own. But you were all I could think about. You were my motivation. You were in every step I trounced, every breath I rasped, every shout, pleading for you to come back. When morning came and the darkness of night cleared, I saw you. Deep on the horizon, you were walking, your back turned to me. I called out to you, and you turned, looking at me with those big, beautiful eyes...and you turned and continued to walk away. My heart shattered like a vase as I realized that the reality that had been beating within my heart all this time couldn't be denied. Everything I had ever thought about you was wrong, everything I thought we has shared was a lie...and I was the only one to blame. I could neither apologize, nor beg for your forgiveness. I had ruined everything. All I could do was stand helplessly, watching your silhouette fade into the early morning sunrise.

I struck out into the night searching for you. For the entire night, I searched through stormy gales, frigid blizzards and scorching deserts. Condition much greater than what any man could have bore on his own. But you were all I could think about. You were my motivation. You were in every step I trounced, every breath I rasped, every shout, pleading for you to come back. When morning came and the darkness of night cleared, I saw you. Deep on the horizon, you were walking, your back turned to me. I called out to you, and you turned, looking at me with those big, beautiful eyes...and you turned and continued to walk away. My heart shattered like a vase as I realized that the reality that had been beating within my heart all this time couldn't be denied. Everything I had ever thought about you was wrong, everything I thought we has shared was a lie...and I was the only one to blame. I could neither apologize, nor beg for your forgiveness. I had ruined everything. All I could do was stand helplessly, watching your silhouette fade into the early morning sunrise.