'And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.' " sydney australia 28
Here’s the true secret of life: We mostly do everything over and over. In the morning, we let the dogs out, make coffee, read the paper, help whoever is around get ready for the day. We do our work. In the afternoon, if we have left, we come home, put down our keys and satchels, let the dogs out, take off constrictive clothing, make a drink or put water on for tea, toast the leftover bit of scone. I love ritual and repetition. Without them, I would be a balloon with a slow leak.…Daily rituals, especially walks, even forced marches around the neighborhood, and schedules, whether work or meals with non-awful people, can be the knots you hold on to when you’ve run out of rope.
Anne Lamott, Stitches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair
[Text ID: Maybe what I’ve been trying to say all this time, as an explanation and apology, is that I sense a mass of white noise in front of my face wherever I go. It stands between me and the world, between me and other people. More and more I am finding myself lost in it, unable to make it through to the other side.]
You’re always going to be young in someone’s eyes and old in someone else’s, talented to one and terrible to the next. The worlds never going to agree on a definition of what you are so you might as well ignore that shit and be whatever the fuck you wanna be for yourself.
