बारशाला घरातले आणि इतर वेळेस बाहेरचे नाव ठेवतात...

I watched the people passing below, each of them a story, each story part of somebody else's, all of it connected to the big story of the world. People weren't islands, so far as I was concerned. How could they be, when their stories kept getting tangled up in everybody else's?

Relations are by product of Money(mostly), keep your finances in line and rest all is taken care" This is a fact, which would be rarely accepted by people, but inside everyone knows that...Those who've not yet experienced it would still say, money cannot buy love, respect bla bla bla...

Und es gibt Menschen, die behaupten, Gott hätte das gesamte Universum erschaffen, um sich selbst sehen zu können. So wie wir immer unter Menschen gehen, weil wir uns über andere Menschen definieren. Weil wir nur durch die Art, wie sie sind, erkennen können, wie wir sind.

What separates us into engineers and robots, puppeteers and puppets, kings and pawns, is not the status we hold at any given time among others - status is irrelevant; it is the level of ever-present awareness we have of a grey-matter tailor's tools [of flattery, persuasion, and cunning.]

Penny wanted this kind of attention from the world. She wanted people everywhere to know her name and to love her. There, she'd admitted it aloud. But she couldn't do anything that would justify such massive public acclaim. She just needed a mentor, a teacher, someone to discover her.

I don't believe everything happens for a reason. But I still search for reasons anyway. It's like I don't want to admit that maybe everything really is totally random...that people are just molecules in the air, bumping into each other and floating away again."-p150, NOTES TO SELF

All there is, is fragments, because a man, even the loneliest of the species, is divided among several persons, animals, worlds. To know a man more than slightly it would be necessary to gather him together from all those quarters, each last scrap of him, and this done after he is safely dead.

My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain...There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory.

Holding myself to perfectionistic standards, I used to think I had to become lifelong friends with everyone who entered my life. This was exhausting, and I now know it’s not true. I believe the old saying that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” (127)

I challenge you today to go past fear, doubt, worry and the darkness, and Turn On your Light, Allow the Spark to Light your candle and when you have done so and basked in the feeling of being truly alive and have filled your cup, share with another who still lives in the dark. ~ The Hidden Path

Ask questions then talk over answers, shout loudly you love everyone, try and hug people, confide in them that you are a sheep, offer them the last grass in your pockets.Then watch with a smile as they pretend you aren't there, and whisper you must be crazy, because you want to make friends.

Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in general. You never see fault in any body. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life.""I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but I always speak what I think.

أن الناس لا يكونون على وتيرة واحدة فقط وعلى الدوام

Out of the blue Sylvia said, ‘People are like boxes. You would like to open them up and see what’s inside, but you can’t.’ Sylvia was interested in people and recognizing how individuals create their own kind of camouflage- the ‘lids on the boxes’, so to speak.