Sunday mornings;

“I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.” – Anais Nin

I asked Irving whether he thought that quote true. Irving says, yes, he believes that this is why women secretly wish of their men. And maybe, this is what true gentleman do discreetly without rousing the obvious realizations of the woman? I do believe in female courage.

Have been reading several of Wilde’s comedies again, and reveling in every one of them. I love the flirtatious banter of characters, the counterpoint, the coquetry of the women! I wish I could see Wilde on stage again, played true, with a beautiful and elaborate stage set and devious characters.

“I think you look best when you speak from your heart.”

I often wish, too, that I would be able to speak true from my heart, and the other would feel so compelled. But often there is the difficulty, instead there are the reluctant signs, the fervent interpretations, the worries, the foolish conclusions. I think too much when I am alone, and sometimes my imagination goes before the logic of my mind.

It is sometimes so distressing to be female! That despite our firm hold of logic, our emotions often get to the better of us.

It is currently, the little things carrying me forward on a Sunday. Only then, they came so naturally, I had no idea they were the little things.

When one is separated by a distance, when one is in his quiet moments, all these things, become suddenly more important than everything else.

“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on,” - Robert Frost

“So I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we’ll never know most of them. But even if we don’t have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.”

The Perks of Being a Wallflower – Stephen Chbosky

 Making my way from here again, is not so easy. Sometimes I forget who I wanted to be. Or did I ever know?

“You forget all of it anyway. First, you forget everything you learned – the dates of the Hay-Herran Treaty and the Pythagorean Theorem. You especially forget everything you didn’t really learn, but just memorized the night before. You forget the names of all but one or two of your teachers, and eventually you’ll forget those, too. You forget your junior class schedule and where you used to sit and your best friend’s home phone number and the lyrics to that song you must have played a million times. For me, it was something by Simon & Garfunkel. Who knows what it will be for you? And eventually, but slowly, oh so slowly, you forget your humiliations – even the ones that seemed indelible just fade away. You forget who was cool and who was not, who was pretty, smart, athletic, and not. Who went to a good college. Who threw the best parties. Who could get you pot. You forget all of them. Even the ones you said you loved, and even the ones you actually did. They’re the last to go. And then once you’ve forgotten enough, you love someone else.”

Gabrielle Zevin (Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac)

Here it is. I must remind myself that I will forget.


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