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Writing, real writing, should leave a small sweet bruise somewhere on the writer . . . and on the reader.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
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Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Age: 79
Born: 1945
Born: January 27
Poet
Psychologist
Writer
Indiana
United States
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Real
Bruise
Writing
Bruises
Somewhere
Reader
Sweet
Writer
Leave
Small
More quotes by Clarissa Pinkola Estes
A runner is real when she takes the first step.
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To love means to embrace and at the same time to withstand many endings, and many many beginnings- all in the same relationship.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
We all wish to be brave and strong in the face of disaster. We all wish to be looked up to for our endurance and efforts to help others.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Suppose... the body is a God in its own right, a teacher, a mentor, a certified guide? Then what? .... Are we strong enough to refute the party line and listen deep, listen true to the body as a powerful and holy being?
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A woman who is starved for her real soul-life may look 'cleaned up and combed' on the outside, but on the inside she is filled with dozens of pleading hands and empty mouths.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Be proud of your scars. They have everything to do with your strength, and what you've endured. They're a treasure map to the deep self.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
To be poor and be without trees, is to be the most starved human being in the world. To be poor and have trees, is to be completely rich in ways that money can never buy.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
If logic was anything, all men would ride sidesaddles.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
If you have ever been called defiant, incorrigible, forward, cunning, insurgent, unruly, rebellious, you're on the right track.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Like all other lonely or hungry things, ego loves the light. It sees light, and the possibility of being close to the soul, and it creeps up to it and steals one of its essential camouflages. In a hunger for soul, our own ego-self steals the pelt
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
The body remembers, the bones remember, the joints remember, even the little finger remembers. Memory is lodged in pictures and feelings in the cells themselves. Like a sponge filled with water, anywhere the flesh is pressed, wrung, even touched lightly, a memory may flow out in a stream.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
We practice conscious forgetting by refusing to summon up the fiery material, we refuse to recollect. To forget is an active, not a passive, endeavor. It means to not haul up certain materials, or turn them over and over, to not work oneself up by repetitive thought, picture, or emotion.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Though her soul requires seeing, the culture around her requires sightlessness. Though her soul wishes to speak its truth, she is pressured to be silent.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
The point of art is not simply to express ourselves, but to create an external, concrete form in which the soul of our lives can be evoked and contained.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
The predation of wolves and women by those who misunderstand them is strikingly similar.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
To love pleasure takes little. To love truly takes a hero who can manage his own fear.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
A lover cannot be chosen a la smorgasbord. A lover has to be chosen from soul-craving. To choose just because something mouthwatering stands before ou will never satisfy the hunger of the soul-self. And that is what the intuition is for it is the direct messenger of the soul.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
If you've lost focus, just sit down and be still. Take the idea and rock it to and fro. Keep some of it and throw some away, and it will renew itself. You need do no more.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
To adjoin the instinctual nature does not mean to come undone, change everything from left to right, from black to white, to move the east to west, to act crazy or out of control. It does not mean to lose one's primary socializations, or to become less human. It means quite the opposite. The wild nature has a vast integrity to it
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Go out in the woods, go out. If you don't go out in the woods nothing will ever happen and your life will never begin.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes