Pain may exist in the body, but all suffering exists in the mind. No matter what happens to you, no matter how terrible, there can be peace.

Spark exists for a moment and then turns into ash. How is human life different?

Politicians know the poor exists when they are about to deliver the speech to the poor or when they seek sympathy or votes from the poor , but before or after that. They don't see the poor, because they are blinded by the money they are taking from the poor.

"Inferiority (if exists any)

I want to tell her that I know all about the power imbalance that exists every time you meet someone who's seen you at your most vulnerable, whether or not it was your choice in the first place.

Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life

No love exists without sacrifice, no sacrifice exists without love!

Gray is the knowledge that nothing in this world exists in solid colors. @reenadossauthor

Justice can't be assessed within humanity's frail rainbow of sight, it must be determined under the billion shades of gray upon a forgotten line that exists between wrong and right. @reenadossauthor

I don't care what Einstein said about God not playing dice; If he exists, he's addicted to craps.

You do not exist to serve the illusion. The illusion exists to serve you.

If you hold even a minor degree of discontent for the life you lead ? know that the answer for such discontent is the past and the solution to improve the future exists in the present.

Humanity exists as a culmination of generations upon generations of knowledge.

Despite the vast complexity of the human brain, we are still susceptible to the more animalistic nature that exists within each of us.

This life exists as a competition with oneself - no one else.

All suffering is mind-made. Where is suffering in the world? In pain? No. In harsh words people say? How could sounds spoken cause suffering? Suffering only exists in our anticipation of events unfavorable to the mind due to desires not met, or regrets from the past that live as memories in our mind.

When the horror recedes and the world resumes its normal shape, you cannot forget it. You have seen what is "really" there, the empty horror that exists when the consoling illusion of our mundane experience is stripped away, so you can never respond to the world in quite the same way again.

Writing is the voices inside our heads, our minds, the creativity that exists for us to, from nothing, create alternate worlds, manipulate a personality or to introduce a new kind of love, a new kind of hate or pain or happiness or wonder or... anything we want. Through words, we can do, we can be anything we want.

Please? Whoever you are, whatever you are? I believe in you even though I don't completely understand you. I feel you around me even though I can't exactly describe what I'm feeling. Sometimes things happen to me and I know that you're there and I'm humbled by the lack of coincidence that exists in the world. Whatever you want from me, it's yours - just please help me. You know how I get when I lose control, and I find myself constantly being pulled back there these days.

The material world is all feminine. The feminine engergy makes the non-manifest, manifest. So even men (are of the feminine energy). We have to relinquish our ideas of gender in the conventional sense. This has nothing to do with gender, it has to do with energy. So feminine energy is what creates and allows anything which is non-manifest, like an idea, to come into form, into being, to be born. All that we experience in the world around us, absolutely everything (is feminine energy). The only way that anything exists is through the feminine force.

Writing is.... being able to take something whole and fiercely alive that exists inside you in some unknowable combination of thought, feeling, physicality, and spirit, and to then store it like a genie in tense, tiny black symbols on a calm white page. If the wrong reader comes across the words, they will remain just words. But for the right readers, your vision blooms off the page and is absorbed into their minds like smoke, where it will re-form, whole and alive, fully adapted to its new environment.

Equally, the surrealists consider words as witnesses of life acting in a direct way in human affairs. To use words properly it was necessary to treat them with respect, for they were the intermediaries between oneself and the rest of creation. To abuse them was immediately to set oneself adrift from true being. Words need to be coaxed to reveal a little of their true nature, so as to close the breach that exists between the writer and the universe. The world is not something alien against which man is in conflict. Rather man and cosmos exist in reciprocal motion. We are not cast adrift in an alien or meaningless environment. The universe is intimate with us and, as Breton insisted, it is a cryptogram to be deciphered.

I stalk certain words... I catch them in mid-flight, as they buzz past, I trap them, clean them, peel them, I set myself in front of the dish, they have a crystalline texture to me, vibrant, ivory, vegetable, oily, like fruit, like algae, like agates, like olives... I stir them, I shake them, I drink them, I gulp them down, I mash them, I garnish them... I leave them in my poem like stalactites, like slivers of polished wood, like coals, like pickings from a shipwreck, gifts from the waves... Everything exists in the word.

Does something which exists on the edge have no true relevance to the stable center, or does it, by being on the edge, become a part of the edge and thus a part of the boundary, the definition which gives the whole its shape?