I want to come home laughing, chasing fireflies, and drunk in love with you.
Find that kind of love that drowns you but still keeps you breathing.
I needed you like rain but you were afraid to fall.
It’s neither an injury nor a wound but it can leave a scar. Some people do not have to break you to leave a strong mark; they are a lightning of miracle.
To some, you are just a face in the crowd. To the one, you are the star of the show.
I wish I could delete the memory of you as easily as I could delete you from my contacts.
Religion for me is just a tool to connect ourselves to God, the creator. What I believe is that as a human we are entitled to learn, to study, in all aspects of our lives.
There were so many times along that path when the voice within, felt compelled, to ask me whether my existence had any value; whether my life had any purpose or meaning
And then red, marbled with pink, around two imperfect circles of bone-white with dark centers. A space where there shouldn’t be one—ground visible, covered with grass, and some clover. Red again—an image of the tomatoes on the kitchen counter flashed across Beatrice’s mind—surrounding two more bone-white circles. The hand bearing the peacock was severed, that was why Beatrice could see a sliver of ground where basic biology dictated there should be skin. There was a clean cut five inches or so above the wrist, just missing the edge of the peacock’s tail, the muscles and tendons—the bones—neatly sliced through like a Swiss round steak prepared by an expert butcher.
Books were safer than other people anyway.
Maybe Heaven will be a library. Then I will be able to finish my to-read list.
He loved books, those undemanding but faithful friends.
Books are magical keys to open up worlds and change perspectives.
Narratives can make us understand. Photographs do something else: they haunt us.
Reality doesn’t always give us the life that we desire, but we can always find what we desire between the pages of books.
It is intolerable to have one's sufferings twinned with anybody else's.
Cats and books are my universe. Both are infinitely fascinating and full of mystery.
All memory is individual, unreproducible - it dies with each person. What is called collective memory is not a remembering but a stipulating: that this is important, and this is the story about how it happened, with the pictures that lock the story in our minds.
Love the great narcotic was the revealer in the alchemist's bottle rendering visible the most untraceable substances. Love the great narcotic was the agent provocateur exposing all the secret selves to daylight.
When you're in my arms, I know you're mine. But your feet are so swift, so swift, they carry you as lightly as wings, I never know where, too fast, too fast away from me.