Ermert Funeral Home Quotes & Sayings

As more people have found the courage to break through shame and speak about woundedness in their lives, we are now subjected to a mean-spirited cultural response, where all talk of woundedness is mocked. The belittling of anyone's attempt to name a context within which they were wounded, were made a victim, is a form of shaming. It is psychological terrorism. Shaming breaks our hearts. All individuals who are genuinely seeking well-being within a healing context realize that it is important to that process not to make being a victim a stance of pride or a location from which to simply blame others. We need to speak our shame and our pain courageously in order to recover. Addressing woundedness is not about blaming others; however, it does allow individuals who have been, and are, hurt to insist on accountability and responsibility both from themselves and from those who were the agents of their suffering as well as those who bore witness. Constructive confrontation aids our healing. — Bell Hooks

events that occur at random will seem to come in clusters, because it would take a nonrandom process to space them out. — Steven Pinker

I'm falling for you so hard that I can feel the scrapes on my knees as I'm brought to them. I understand you are scared because I'm absolutely terrified, but I'm not going to hurt you or kick you when you're down. — Ella Frank

There is nothing wrong with avoiding people who hurt you. — Taylor Swift

[A]s if life were a thunder-storm wherein you can see by a flash the horizon, and then cannot see your hand ... — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Projection into the future does not create security because the future is not really there. It's a fluid mirage. The only security is merging with The Field, right now. — Penney Peirce

Hey, buddy. Are you ready to swim with Joshua? And eat hot dogs?"
Brady nodded. "Hot dogs! Thew's a pawty in my tummy!" He giggled and grinned at me.
I rolled my eyes and set him down on the floor. "You're going to make me sing it back?"
He nodded, bouncing.
I rubbed my hand over my stomach. "So yummy, so yummy."
He fell back onto his bottom and rolled on the floor in a fit of laughter.
"No more YoGabbaGabba, li'l man. It makes Dee's brain crazy. — Amber L. Johnson

Emery was kneeling outside "gardening" when Ceony and Langston stepped through the illusion that masked the paper magician's house. He had positioned himself outside the curving garden of meticulously crafted paper flowers, and seemed to be replacing all the red, tulip-shaped flower heads with blue, lily-shaped ones. Fennel chewed on the discarded spells as Emery worked, crumpling them in his paper mouth and then spitting the balls into an overturned trash receptacle. — Charlie N. Holmberg

I suppose the best way to tell the story is simply to narrate it, without an effort to carry belief. The thing did not require belief. It was not a feeling of horror in one's bones, or a misty outline, or anything that needed to be given actuality by an act of faith. It was as solid as a wardrobe. You don't have to believe in wardrobes. They are there, with corners. (The Troll) — T.H. White

One of the unspoken themes that I'm grappling with in Day of Honey is the relationship between violence and cosmopolitanism. It's one thing to comprehend violence as an outgrowth of ignorance, poverty, and backwardness. It's another matter entirely to confront incredible atrocities in a country with a rich civic and intellectual life. — Annia Ciezadlo

You'd think one day we'd learn. You don't get anything unless you fight for it, united and with visible numbers. If ACT UP taught us anything, it taught us that. — Larry Kramer

Seeing her was a key turned in a rusty lock and now all his gears were churning. — Suanne Laqueur

Nothing happens in isolation. Everything that happens has consequences. We — David McCullough

American feminism's nose dive began when Kate Millet, that imploding beanbag of poisonous self-pity, declared Freud a sexist. Trying to build a sex theory without studying Freud, women have made nothing but mud pies. — Camille Paglia