“After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with colour, bountiful with life.”
“The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.” ― Carl Sagan, Cosmos
It sometimes takes a lot of effort to be who I am supposed to be ~ mature, responsible and in charge ~ when all I want to do is take off my clothes and run naked through the sprinklers.
For old people, beauty doesn’t come free with the hormones, the way it does for the young. It has to do with bones. It has to do with who the person is.
We don’t look at the stars in the universe and say how tragic they are, how bruised they are, even though that is what they are. We look at them and speak of the beauty they contain.
We live in an age in which youth is glorified and deified, and a society that equates beauty with young women, perfect women, of a certain size and shape of face and body