(Living between the questions of the abyss and the answers of the summit).To those who refuse to live in a world where minds rule and hearts have hidden inside everything they can’t feel.
We survive on the tips our self-confidence leaves us., p. 18
Every person is a miracle that has to learn how to enjoy the ordinary out of which he is made., p. 113
We win to conquer the part of ourselves that scares us the most., p. 38
Winners are afraid. Losers are afraid of being afraid., p. 70
Whenever someone sets a new goal in his life, a new peak to climb, soon after he starts building inside him the abyss he will have to cross to conquer it., p. 57
Happiness begins where apathy ends. , p. 18
A draw is the worst kind of defeat., p. 24
Though man is born a winner, he loses his inclination to win when he realizes how much more comfortably he can live in his draws., p. 24
Every finish line I ever reached in my life didn’t let me cross it unless I first answered the question I was afraid to ask myself more than any other., p. 36
Many don’t run to succeed, but to get away from their failure., p. 39
Our strength stems from the way we manage our weaknesses. , p. 42
I haven’t betrayed anyone in my life as much as I have betrayed my good qualities., p. 42
Every starting line I stepped on was an indictment brought against me. Every finish line was an exoneration., p. 43
We underestimate our normality, we discount our daily lives. We belittle abundance and glorify scarcity. We don’t respect what we have plenty of and we idolize anything we cannot easily get our hands on. And when we cannot have it at all, we worship it. , p. 54
If you try to find your self-respect in your next victory you will become a successful sad man., p. 59
Man, unfortunately, is less smart than his worst self and less capable than his best one. , p. 60
Every morning, we wed again the life we live, trying to convince ourselves that we are no longer in love with the life we should be living., p. 64
Be the exclamation point of your life, instead of its question mark., p. 66
No one can know himself if he keeps on living in the center of his character, never attempting to visit its outer limits, where the best and worst in him live. Can a tourist get to know a city by only visiting its central square?, p. 67
There’s no human being who can keep both his logic and his happiness satisfied at the same time. A successful person prefers to satisfy his logic, but someone who really understands what success is, prefers to satisfy his happiness. , p. 67
Winners go through life with a bucket of green paint and, using their most pessimistic thought instead of a brush, paint every red light they see in front of them green. Losers do the opposite., p. 68
I cannot win unless I first defeat the part of my character that wants me to lose., p. 92
Every heart lives chained to those shortcomings of her owner which he always thought were his good qualities., p. 106
Optimists always have in them one more paradise than they can sustain, while pessimists have one more hell than they need. , p. 112
In every question I pose to nature I have carefully wrapped a question I ought to ask myself., p. 91
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1. THE MAN WHO HAS ONLY ONE TRUTH IN HIM
240Angelos Michalopoulos
What do you call the lie that wants to tell the truth? What do you call the hesitation that wants to dare? I can’t remem...
What do you call the lie that wants to tell the truth? What do you call the hesitation that wants to dare? I can’t remember their names but I know they are the ones that dim the lights in the room every time I undo the buttons of my soul and open my shirt to reveal my chest to my authenticity.
Why do I feel that I betrayed everything I have forgotten? How I became the brilliant idiot who can answer almost anything except for what my soul wants to ask me? The same way I managed for years at the end of every evening stealing what my cleverness had already stolen from me during that day. Could this be the way loneliness ends up stealing the “1” from the uniqueness of her owner? Maybe it’s time I realize that a soul’s ugliness can be much more ambitious than her beauty.
Two best friends, John and Mark, are at a beach at two o’clock in the morning on the first day of their vacation, trying to find a way to unload the extra burden they carried on behalf of the person each one chose to be during the day that just ended. They have brought it to the store of their self-awareness to cash it in, hoping to find out this way what profit they gained by simultaneously transforming themselves for a few hours into something more than what their logic would like them to be and something less than what their soul could have them become. Using a different technique, each one is struggling again after a long time to remember how one can free himself from the obligation of showing the people around him something different than what he sees when he looks in the mirror his conscience brings him and sets up across from those questions which for years now he’s been afraid to ask her himself. They’ve brought with them only what’s heavier than a conscience that can no longer stand fighting with her truth and what’s lighter than an ego that doesn’t need to defeat the next minute of its owner to feel useful.
Unclenching, the fist discovered a caress inside it
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Maria and Jimmy sit together but apart, facing each other, anchored as firmly as they can in their own ego and even more in their own private abyss, the abyss a person begins to form when even his loneliness decides to leave him alone. Between them sits a gaunt silence which, occasionally glancing from one to the other, doesn’t know how to begin to be silent the way they prefer.
The obscure zero, the vacant one and the man in between
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Every day I learn how to think by forgetting what I already know. I learn how to be happy by ignoring all that wants to make me sad. I learn how to move forward by attacking anything that wants to make me retreat. I have no right to uproot anything I haven’t planted. I have no right to erase anything I haven’t written.
What do you call the lie that wants to tell the truth? What do you call the hesitation that wants to dare? I can’t remember their names but I know they are the ones that dim the lights in the room every time I undo the buttons of my soul and open my shirt to reveal my chest to my authenticity.
Why do I feel that I betrayed everything I have forgotten? How I became the brilliant idiot who can answer almost anything except for what my soul wants to ask me? The same way I managed for years at the end of every evening stealing what my cleverness had already stolen from me during that day. Could this be the way loneliness ends up stealing the “1” from the uniqueness of her owner? Maybe it’s time I realize that a soul’s ugliness can be much more ambitious than her beauty.
Two best friends, John and Mark, are at a beach at two o’clock in the morning on the first day of their vacation, trying to find a way to unload the extra burden they carried on behalf of the person each one chose to be during the day that just ended. They have brought it to the store of their self-awareness to cash it in, hoping to find out this way what profit they gained by simultaneously transforming themselves for a few hours into something more than what their logic would like them to be and something less than what their soul could have them become. Using a different technique, each one is struggling again after a long time to remember how one can free himself from the obligation of showing the people around him something different than what he sees when he looks in the mirror his conscience brings him and sets up across from those questions which for years now he’s been afraid to ask her himself. They’ve brought with them only what’s heavier than a conscience that can no longer stand fighting with her truth and what’s lighter than an ego that doesn’t need to defeat the next minute of its owner to feel useful.
Unclenching, the fist discovered a caress inside it
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Maria and Jimmy sit together but apart, facing each other, anchored as firmly as they can in their own ego and even more in their own private abyss, the abyss a person begins to form when even his loneliness decides to leave him alone. Between them sits a gaunt silence which, occasionally glancing from one to the other, doesn’t know how to begin to be silent the way they prefer.
The obscure zero, the vacant one and the man in between
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Every day I learn how to think by forgetting what I already know. I learn how to be happy by ignoring all that wants to make me sad. I learn how to move forward by attacking anything that wants to make me retreat. I have no right to uproot anything I haven’t planted. I have no right to erase anything I haven’t written.