We are born alone
and we leave alone,
and in between we think we will die, if we remain in solitude.
All humans are born free,
but we leave the world indebted. Indebted to nature, indebted to those who loved us, and to those whom we refused to love.
I like those birds who fly with broken wings, I like their crippled movements in the air. I know they must hear the shoutings from below, calling them invalids. But I also know that for those in the sky, they are the real heroes.
Realizing you did something utterly stupid, is the best reassurance that you still are amongst the reasonably sane.
When everything is allowed, you loose the possibility and
joy of being a rebel.
When we ask a question, what is it that we want answered? Our worth to them? In which box to place them? How much respect they deserve?
Is there any question, whose answer is not a tool for judgement?