Sometimes she sat and let her mind go blank and her eyes go out of focus, so that she watched the slow, jerky movements of the motes that floated across her pupils. They amazed her as a child. Now she saw them as a reflection of how she moved, floating listlessly through the world, occasionally… Continue reading Robert Goolrick,
I have a theory that selflessness and bravery aren’t all that different. ― Veronica Roth, Divergent. (Collins Children’s Books 2011)
That old saying, how you always kill the one you love, well, look, it works both ways. — Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club. (W. W. Norton August 17, 1996)
The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. ― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot. (Grove Press; 1 edition, May 17, 2011) Originally published 1952. Premiered 5 January 1953 at theThéâtre de Babylone, Paris France.
I wanted to write you a story about magic. I wanted rabbits appearing from hats. I wanted balloons lifting you into the sky. It turned out to be nothing but sadness, war, heartbreak. You never saw it, but there’s a garden inside me. ― Shane Jones, Light Boxes. (Publishing Genius Press; first edition, February 11,… Continue reading Shane Jones
The blankets had fallen off and I stared down at her white back, the shoulder blades sticking out as if they wanted to grow into wings, poke through that skin. Little blades. She was helpless. — Charles Bukowski, Post Office. (Black Sparrow Press 1971)
Solitude has soft, silky hands, but with strong fingers it grasps the heart and makes it ache with sorrow. — Kahlil Gibran, Broken Wings: Silent Sorrow. ( White Cloud Press; 1st edition July 1, 1998) Originally published: 1912
