Mary E. Pearson Quotes - Page 2

On a small planet, where minute follows minute, day follows day, year follows year, where tradition marches on with a deafening, orderly beat -sometimes the order is disturbed by a dreamer, an artist, a scribbler - sometimes the beat is changed one person at a time.

I thought grandmothers had to like you. It’s a law or something.

Picture yourself five years from now. Where do you want to be? Remember that. Every day. That's how you'll get there.

The information. Every bit that of information that was ever in your brain. But the information is not the mind Jenna. That we've never accomplished before. What we've done with you is groundbreaking. We cracked the code. The mind is an energy that the brain produces. Think of a glass ball twirling on your fingertip. If it falls, it shatters into a million pieces. All the parts of a ball are still there, but it will never twirl with that force on your fingertip again. The brain is the same way.

When your life has had few events to occupy it, it's amazing how a simple encounter can seem like an entire three-act play.

Escape is not about moving from one place to another. It's about becoming more.

Awareness There is a dark place. A place where I have no eyes, no mouth. No words. I can't cry out because I have no breath. The silence is so deep I want to die. But I can't. The darkness and silence go on forever. It is not a dream. I don't dream.

I used to be someone.

When is a cell finally too small to hold our essence?

But remember, child, we may all have our own story and destiny, and sometimes our seemingly bad fortune, but we're all part of a greater story too. One that transcends the soil, the wind, time even our own tears. Greater stories will have their way.

It can take years to mold a dream. It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.

...and time becomes a forgotten detail.

Things I can feel. Hard. Soft. Rough. Smooth. But the inside kind of feel, it is all the same, like foggy mush. Is that the part of me that is still asleep? (9)

We all have a dark place in us. It's what we do with it and the choice we make.

I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)

Pieces. A bit for someone here. A bit there. And sometimes they don't add up to anything whole. But you are so busy dancing. Delivering. You don't have time to notice. Or are afraid to notice. And then one day you have to look. And it's true. All of your pieces fill up other people's holes. But they don't fill your own.

Maybe we all have a dark place inside of us, a place where dark thoughts and darker dreams live, but it doesn't have to become who we are.

But I am more than a name. More than they tell me

Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky.

I created an icicle sculpture in the snow. White on white.

Multiple closets for different needs. Overkill.

People will notice the beauty of what they usually ignore ~

Whatever you choose for your stationery is your favorite color because it's where you pour your heart out.

Observing and understanding are two different things.

I suppose you're right about some perspectives. Just a few weeks ago, I thought you were a dickhead.