Try this for deviancy: fabricants are mirrors held up to purebloods' conscience; what purebloods see reflected there sickens them. So they blame you for holding the mirror."
I hid my shock by asking when purebloods might blame themselves.
Mephi replied, "History suggests, not until they are made to.
Stichwörter: history hate self-discovery reflection postmodern postmodernism blame disgust self-disgust cloud-atlas
My old man taught me to never trust anything that bleeds for three days and doesn't die.
Tommy TranStichwörter: humor love women hate relationships joke laugh
Racism is not merely a simplistic hatred. It is, more often, broad sympathy toward some and broader skepticism toward others.
Ta-Nehisi CoatesStichwörter: empathy hate hatred prejudice skepticism racism empathy-psychology contemporary-racism empathy-diversity
Don't be afraid to let it go. Releasing hate does not make you forget what you want always to remember. It does not mean reconciliation.
Leila MeachamStichwörter: hate
The messengers of Jesus will be hated to the end of time. They will be blamed for all the division which rend cities and homes. Jesus and his disciples will be condemned on all sides for undermining family life, and for leading the nation astray; they will be called crazy fanatics and disturbers of the peace. The disciples will be sorely tempted to desert their Lord. But the end is also near, and they must hold on and persevere until it comes. Only he will be blessed who remains loyal to Jesus and his word until the end.
Dietrich BonhoefferStichwörter: family peace hate home temptation jesus crazy loyalty fanatic christians perseverence blame city nation division disciples blessing condemn disturb
blue-gold sky, fresh cloud,
emerald-black mountain, trees
on rocky ledges,
on the summit, the tiny pin
of a telephone tower-all
brilliantly clear,
in shadow and out.
and on and through
everything
everywhere
the sun shines
without reservation (p. 97)
Stichwörter: love poetry hate death poem death-and-dying mother grief conflict healing dying poems daughters verse memoirs cancer son death-of-a-loved-one death-and-sickness grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother alchoholism death-and-love colon-cancer barbara-blatner death-and-son grievindeath-and-daughters new-york-quarterly verses
...gripping the
rim of the sink
you claw your
way to stand
and cling there,
quaking with
will, on
heron legs,
and still the hot
muck pours
out of you. (p. 27)
Stichwörter: life love poetry hate death poem death-and-dying memoir mother grief conflict mountains healing new-york dying poems daughters verse memoirs alcoholism cancer son grieving death-of-a-loved-one death-and-sickness grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother death-and-love colon-cancer barbara-blatner death-and-son new-york-quarterly verses death-and-daughters dying-at-home verse-memoir
I could simply
kill you now,
get it over with,
who would
know the difference?
I could easily
kick you in, stove you
under, for all those times,
mean on gin,
you rammed words
into my belly. (p. 52)
Stichwörter: life love poetry hate death poem death-and-dying memoir mother grief conflict soul-searching mountains healing new-york dying poems daughters letting-go verse memoirs alcoholism cancer son grieving death-of-a-loved-one death-and-sickness love-and-hate grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother death-and-love colon-cancer barbara-blatner death-and-son new-york-quarterly verses death-and-daughters dying-at-home verse-memoir
oh.
she heard it
too-no waters
coursing, canyon
empty, sun
soundless-
and the beast
your life
nowhere
hiding (p. 103)
Stichwörter: life love poetry hate death poem death-and-dying memoir mother grief conflict soul-searching mountains healing new-york dying poems daughters letting-go verse memoirs alcoholism cancer son grieving death-of-a-loved-one death-and-sickness love-and-hate grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother death-and-love colon-cancer barbara-blatner death-and-son new-york-quarterly verses death-and-daughters dying-at-home verse-memoir
I don't understand my feelings. I really don't. I don't understand how I could hate you so much after so much time. How, no matter how much I'd like to not hate you, I hate you even more. It grows.
Sam ShepardStichwörter: love hate betrayal
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