Have You Prayed” When the windturns and asks, in my father’s voice, Have you prayed? I know three things. One:I’m never finished answering to the dead. Two: A man is four winds and three fires. And the four winds are his father’s voice, his mother’s voice . .Or maybe he’s seven winds and ten fires. And the fires are seeing, hearing, touching, dreaming, thinking .Or is he the breath of God?When the wind turns travelerand asks, in my father’s voice, Have you prayed? I remember three things. One: A father’s loveis milk and sugar, two-thirds worry, two-thirds grief, and what’s left overis trimmed and leavened to make the breadthe dead and the living share. And patience? That’s to endurethe terrible leavening and kneading. And wisdom? That’s my father’s face in sleep. When the windasks, Have you prayed? I know it’s only mereminding myselfa flower is one station betweenearth’s wish and earth’s rapture, and bloodwas fire, salt, and breath long beforeit quickened any wand or branch, any limbthat woke speaking. It’s just mein the gowns of the wind, or my father through me, asking, Have you found your refuge yet?asking, Are you happy? Strange. A troubled father. A happy son. The wind with a voice. And me talking to no one. . LiYoung Lee
When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it--always.
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Mahatma Gandhi
She wanted to lose herself in him. To tie his arms around her like a tourniquet. If she showed him how much she needed him, he'd run away.
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Rainbow Rowell
Life ... is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
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William Shakespeare
Despair is the price one pays for self-awareness. Look deeply into life, and you'll always find despair.
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Irvin D. Yalom
Fame you'll be famous, as famous as can be, with everyone watching you win on TV, Except when they don't because sometimes they won't..
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Dr. Seuss
More Quotes By LiYoung Lee
We suffer each other to have each other a while.
A bruise, bluein the muscle, youimpinge upon me. As bone hugs the ache home, so I'm vexed to love you, your bodythe shape of returns, your hair a torsoof light, your heat I must have, your opening I'd eat, each momentof that soft-finned fruit, inverted...
I am that last, thatfinal thing, the bodyin a white sheet listening,
A door jumpsout from shadows, then jumps away. Thisis what I've come to find:the back door, unlatched. Tooled by insular wind, itslams and slamswithout meaningto and without meaning.
My tongue remembers your wounded flavor. The vein in my neckadores you. A swordstands up between my hips, my hidden fleece sends forth its scent of human oil.
