Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
Get mad, then get over it.
Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.
The cigarettes you light one after another won’t help you forget her.
It’s funny how you can forget everything except people loving you. Maybe that’s why humans find it so hard getting over love affairs. It’s not the pain they’re getting over, it’s the love.
If you can figure out how you’re feeling, then maybe you have a chance of getting over it.
Growing up is all about getting hurt. And then getting over it. You hurt. You recover. You move on. Odds are pretty good you’re just going to get hurt again. But each time, you learn something. Each time you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize there are more flavors of pain than coffee. Pain does two things: it teaches you, tells you that you’re alive. Then it passes away and leaves you changed. And everything that will ever happen to you in life is going to involve it in one way or another.
Growing up is all about getting hurt. And then getting over it. You hurt. You recover. You move on. Odds are pretty good you’re just going to get hurt again. But each time, you learn something.
I spend three hours a day writing and the rest of my day getting over it.
There’s tons of creative people in television that have one failure after another, and they just step up higher. I could never get over that. When I had a failure, there was no such thing as just getting over it.
We as outsiders can’t differentiate between Sunni and Shi’ah, but leave it to them and they’ll get over the difficulty by some kind of hanky panky, just as the Turks did, and for the present it’s the only way of getting over it. I don’t for a moment doubt that the final authority must be in the hands of the Sunnis, in spite of their numerical inferiority; otherwise you will have a mujtahid-run, theocratic state, which is the very devil.
She bought seeds and raided nurseries and mulched and composted and spent full days with her hands full of earth, coaxing life our of the dry, dull grass my father had spent years pushing a mower over.
Unless you have been very, very lucky, you have undoubtedly experienced events in your life that have made you cry. So unless you have been very, very lucky, you know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit.
It’s disingenuous to say that criticism doesn’t get to you or you don’t hear it or that you ignore it. When everybody says, ‘That’s crap. I hated that,’ you hear it. But it’s much, much worse when they’re right: when you feel that it is an absolute piece of tosh. I made the film I wanted to make, so you just have to find a way of getting over it.
For some people, there is no succession plan. They just leave, and there’s no getting over it.
I’m not interested in
who suffered the most.
I’m interested in
people getting over it.
Grief, of course, is not something that operates according to a specific time frame, and it seems cold to suggest otherwise. Yet when we do not grasp that God is present in pain, we eventually insist on victory or, worse, blame the sufferer for not “getting over it” fast enough. This is more than a failure to extend compassion; it’s an exercise in cruelty.
Getting Over It Quotes
― The Philosophy of Andy Warhol
― 5 Miles
― That Summer
― Lord Jim
I am lying down on top of it.
Surveying behind me a wasteland
Of dried-up promise.
While the lights below twinkle
With dull mocking uncertainty.
There isn’t much left to look forward to,
And the looking forward of the past has been belied.”
― The Inertia Variations
― Oracle’s Moon
But then he forgot all those promises he made. He forgot why he loved me. He simply stopped loving me.
And this is how he did it:
He stopped talking to me unless I spoke to him.
He stopped holding my hand.
He stopped kissing me good night.
He stopped kissing me good morning.
He stopped kissing me.
He stopped smiling at me.
He stopped laughing.
He stopped bathing and showering with me.
He stopped wanting me.
He started swearing at me.
He started lying to me.
He started cheating on me.
He hurt me.
And then he told me he was in love with another woman and wanted a divorce.
Oh, I forgot. He said he was sorry.
I wanted to blow his fucking brains out.”
― I Almost Forgot About You
Life was like a jigsaw, but if you tried to fit the pieces together yourself, you generally got them wrong.”
― Real Secrets of Sex: A Women’s Guide on How to Be Good in Bed
― The Monster Baru Cormorant
― The Truth About Forever
― The Goodbye Song