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Whenever you hear anyone talking about a cultural or even about a human problem, you should never forget to inquire who the speaker really is. the more general the problem, the more the person will smuggle his or her own personal psychology into the account he or she gives of it.
-Carl Jung
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Whenever You Hear Anyone Talking About A

Carl Jung
Whenever you hear anyone talking about a cultural or even about a human problem, you should never forget to inquire who the speaker really is. the more general the problem, the more the person will smuggle his or her own personal psychology into the account he or she gives of it.
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Talking Giving Perspective

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Eventually she came. she appeared suddenly, exactly like she'd done that day- she stepped into the sunshine, she jumped, she laughed and threw her head back, so her long ponytail nearly grazed the waistband of her jeans. after that, i couldn't think about anything else. the mole on the inside of her right elbow, like a dark blot of ink. the way she ripped her nails to shreds when she was nervous. her eyes, deep as a promise. her stomach, pale and soft and gorgeous, and the tiny dark cavity of her belly button. i nearly went crazy.
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She's always polite and kind, but her words lack the kind of curiosity and excitement you'd normally expect. her true feelings- assuming such things exist- remain hidden away. except for when a practical sort of decision has to be made, she never gives her personal opinion about anything. she seldom talks about herself, instead letting others talk, nodding warmly as she listens. but most people start to feel vaguely uneasy when talking with her, as if they suspect they're wasting her time, trampling on her private, graceful, dignified world. and that impression is, for the most part, correct.
Personal Opinions Talking People
She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. she was beautiful, for the way she thought. she was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. she was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. no, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. she was beautiful, deep down to her soul. she is beautiful.
Beauty Beautiful Girl
Franny has the measles, for one thing. incidentally, did you hear her last week? she went on at beautiful length about how she used to fly all around the apartment when she was four and no one was home. the new announcer is worse than grant - if possible, even worse than sullivan in the old days. he said she surely dreamt that she was able to fly. the baby stood her ground like an angel. she said she knew she was able to fly because when she came down she always had dust on her fingers from touching the light bulbs.
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Day and night she had drudged and struggled and thrown her soul into her work, and there was not much of her left over for anything else. being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. if she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things. through the lies, she lived vicariously. the lies doubled the little of her existence that was left over from work and augmented the little rag end of her personal life.
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When she closed her eyes she felt he had many hands, which touched her everywhere, and many mouths, which passed so swiftly over her, and with a wolflike sharpness, his teeth sank into her fleshiest parts. naked now, he lay his full length over her. she enjoyed his weight on her, enjoyed being crushed under his body. she wanted him soldered to her, from mouth to feet. shivers passed through her body.
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Everything the human being heard from the beginning, saw with its eyes, looked upon and touched with its hands was a living word; for god was the word.
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And flock rule number two is, don't argue with max or you'll live to regret it." i spun and stomped out to the clearing, turning back for one last jab at dylan. "and by the way, you clearly don't know me better than fang does. do you see fang arguing with me? no, you do not." fang rolled his eyes.
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When you focus with soul eyes, / you will see home in many, many places.
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