We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations. — Anais Nin
People often ask me questions that I cannot very well answer in words, and it makes me sad to think they are unable to hear the voice of my silence. — Inayat Khan
(via weareinfinite)
