I’m saying that I’m a moody, insecure, narrow-minded, jealous, borderline homicidal bitch, and I want you to promise me that you’re okay with that, because it’s who I am, and you’re what I need. ― Jeaniene Frost, Halfway to the Grave (Avon; 1st Printing edition, October 30, 2007)
For love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel. ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 2: The Doll’s House. (Vertigo; Gph edition. March 10, 1999) Originally published June 1st 1990.
There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won’t remember and that she can’t even let herself think about because that’s when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it’s always raining a slow and endless drizzle. You will hear that she has left… Continue reading Neil Gaiman
I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you.… Continue reading Cassandra Clare
I do believe in an everyday sort of magic – the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone. — Charles de Lint
Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not… Continue reading Mark Z. Danielewski
No matter whether you’re an electrician, a scholar or dope addict, chances are that somewhere you’ve still got a letter, postcard, or note that’s meaningful to you. Maybe only to you. It’s amazing how many people save at least a few letters during their lifetime, leaves of feeling, tucked away in a guitar case, a… Continue reading Mark Z. Danielewski
I think we love differently every day. Like the guy who said you can’t stand in a river at exactly the same place twice. Today I love you differently than yesterday, or will tomorrow. — Jonathan Carroll, After Silence. (Doubleday, 1992)
You might try then, as I did, to find a sky so full of stars it will blind you again. Only no sky can blind you now. Even with all that iridescent magic up there, your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You’ll care only about the… Continue reading Mark Z. Danielewski
I miss you. I love you. There’s no second I’ve lived you can’t call your own. — Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves. (Pantheon, Random House March 7, 2000)
The Vale of Soul-Making 