Death is staring too long into the burning sun and the relief of entering a cool, dark room.
Elisabeth Kubler-RossRead
If we make our goal to live a life of compassion and unconditional love, then the world will indeed become a garden where all kinds of flowers can bloom and grow.
Interpretation
Living with compassion and love can transform our world into a flourishing place.
In this quote, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross emphasizes the transformative power of compassion and unconditional love. By prioritizing these values, we can create an environment that allows diverse forms of humanity and creativity to thrive, much like a garden where various flowers coexist beautifully.
In practice
During a speech on community service, this quote could inspire volunteers to embrace love and compassion in their efforts.
Death is staring too long into the burning sun and the relief of entering a cool, dark room.
The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not "get over" the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.
The simple life on the farm was everything to me. Nothing was more relaxing after a long plane flight than to reach the winding driveway that led up to my house. The quiet of the night was more soothing than a sleeping pill.
The ultimate lesson all of us have to learn is unconditional love, which includes not only others but ourselves as well.
There is no joy without hardship. If not for death, would we appreciate life? If not for hate, would we know the ultimate goal is love? At these moments you can either hold on to negativity and look for blame, or you can choose to heal and keep on loving.
We're put here on Earth to learn our own lessons. No one can tell you what your lessons are; it is part of your personal journey to discover them. On these journeys we may be given a lot, or just a little bit, of the things we must grapple with, but never more than we can handle.
The older woman's love is not love of herself, nor of herself mirrored in a lover's eyes, nor is it corrupted by need. It is a feeling of tenderness so still and deep and warm that it gilds every grass blade and blesses every fly. It includes the ones who have a claim on it, and a great deal else besides. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
The night below. We two. Crystal of pain. You wept over great distances. My ache was a clutch of agonies over your sickly heart of sand.
What breaks my heart is suffering of any kind. Too often, our world is divisive and cruel where it needs to be uniting and loving.
When you call me close to tell me your body is not beautiful I want to summon the eyes and hidden mouths of stone and light and water to testify against you.
No love, no friendship, can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever.
Am I in love? --yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn't wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover's fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.
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