Are you talking to her or me, because I just can't tell
I would rather my enemy's sword pierce my heart then my friend's dagger stab me in the back. " Faustus - Don't Talk Back To Your Vampire
Acceptance. We want someone to look at us, and really see us—our physical flaws, our personality quirks, our insecurities. And we want them to be okay with every square inch of who we are. We’re always afraid we might be too needy or too much work. We put all these limitations on ourselves and our relationships because we’re afraid that we’re not really loved. That we’re not really accepted. We hide little pieces of ourselves because we think that might be the one thing that finally drives away the person who’s supposed to love us.
You look beautiful in this dress. " "And yet you're trying to take it off. " "You know that look that Jessica gets when she unwraps one of her truffles?" he asked. "Like she fell into a pool of chocolate with Keanu Reeves and Hugh Jackman swimming toward her?" He looked at me, his lips quirking. "Have that fantasy often?" Heh. Who, me? "Nope. Why would I, when I have you?" "Nice recovery.
At this point, a spaceship could land on Main Street and Elvis could saunter out singing "Love Me Tender," and I wouldn't be surprised
Patrick: Is fear rith maith nά drochseasamh. Jessica:And that means what? Patrick: A good run is better than a bad stand. Jessica: Oh. And that means what? Patrick: It means, Jessica, that life is about choices. Sometimes you fight, sometimes you flee, but you never surrender.
I had always turned to books, to knowledge, to help me get through everything in my life—and, sometimes, to escape it. But grief was a journey through a forest of razor blades. I walked through every painful inch of it—no shortcuts and no anesthesia.
I had left the visible, physical blue at the door, outside, in the street. The real blue was inside, the blue of the profundity of space, the blue of my kingdom, of our kingdom!. . . . the immaterialisation of blue, the coloured space that can not be seen but which we impregnate ourselves with.
To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music that words make.
Why do we remember the past, but not the future?
Your great power lies not on the surface, but deep within your being.