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He believes me. But that is nothing new. He always did because I was a rule follower. I played by the rules he understood. But there are new rules now, ones he doesn't know yet. He'll learn. Just as I'm learning.
Mary E. Pearson
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Mary E. Pearson
Age: 69
Born: 1955
Born: August 14
Teacher
Writer
SoCal
Mary E. Pearson
M.E. Pearson
Always
Rules
Understood
Ones
Learning
Follower
Learn
Followers
Doesn
Believes
Nothing
Played
Believe
Rule
More quotes by Mary E. Pearson
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What I think is all I have left. My mind is the only thing that makes me different from a fancy toaster. What we think does matter-it's all we truly have.
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I thought grandmothers had to like you. It’s a law or something.
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Which weakness shall I tell her? “I walk funny,” I say, and she’s satisfied with that. (inside joke)
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it is amazin, she thinks, how simple appearances can be created - a rush, a smile, a new coat of paint, a slow, calm voice, a hug, a new dress - a resolve to keep out questions and cling to secrets
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Whatever you choose for your stationery is your favorite color because it's where you pour your heart out.
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On a small planet, where minute follows minute, day follows day, year follows year, where tradition marches on with a deafening, orderly beat -sometimes the order is disturbed by a dreamer, an artist, a scribbler - sometimes the beat is changed one person at a time.
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I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)
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When you are perfect, is there anywhere else to go?
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Picture yourself five years from now. Where do you want to be? Remember that. Every day. That's how you'll get there.
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My timing is off. But I had to get it out. Some things you have to tell, no matter how stupid they may sound. Some things you can't save for later. There might not be a later.
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It's the unknown that I fear, the bites of memories that still have no connections.
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We all have a dark place in us. It's what we do with it and the choice we make.
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It's other people who make us wise, and I haven't known nearly enough.
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Pieces. Isn't that what all of life is anyway? Shards. Bits. Moments. Am I less because I have fewer, or do the few I have mean more?
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Chance. It weaves through our lives like a golden thread, sometimes knotting, tangling, and breaking along the way. Loose threads are left hanging, but the in and out, the back and forth continues, the weaving goes on. It doesn't stop.
Mary E. Pearson
