“Reagan…god. Why is this so hard? He lifts his head, his eyes roaming, searching, wavering. He swallows and sighs, tries again. “I’ve never loved anyone before, Reagan. I don’t know how.”
“You’re doing just fine so far,” I tell him.”
― Jasinda Wilder, quote from Captured
“I had the love of my life. I married him. He died a prisoner of war from wounds received during combat with the enemy. I buried him.”
― Jasinda Wilder, quote from Captured
“I vowed to love and remain faithful to Tom in sickness and in health, till death do us part. Well, death parted us. Now what?”
― Jasinda Wilder, quote from Captured
“You’re beautiful, and you are wanted. I know I’m not supposed to feel that way about you, but fuck it. I do.”
― Jasinda Wilder, quote from Captured
“I love you. I’ll fight for you. For us. I’ll never give up, and I’ll love you more every day.”
― Jasinda Wilder, quote from Captured
“Tonight she’s sleepy. Dragging. She barely makes it up the stars, fumbling at her shirt and bra on the way. I help. Hehe, help.”
― Jasinda Wilder, quote from Captured
Jasinda Wilder
Born place: Detroit, MI, The United States
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“When we die, these are the stories still on our lips. The stories we’ll only tell strangers, someplace private in the padded cell of midnight. These important stories, we rehearse them for years in our head but never tell. These stories are ghosts, bringing people back from the dead. Just for a moment. For a visit. Every story is a ghost.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, quote from Haunted
“Doctor Spielvogel, it alleviates nothing fixing the blame - blaming is still ailing, of course, of course - but nonetheless, what was it with these Jewish parents, what, that they were able to make us little Jewish boys believe ourselves to be princes on the one hand, unique as unicorns on the one hand, geniuses and brilliant like nobody has ever been brilliant and beautiful before in the history of childhood - saviors and sheer perfection on the one hand, and such bumbling, incompetent, thoughtless, helpless, selfish, evil little shits, little ingrates, on the other!”
― Philip Roth, quote from Portnoy's Complaint
“The principle that the end justifies the means is and remains the only rule of political ethics; anything else is just a vague chatter and melts away between one’s fingers.”
― Arthur Koestler, quote from Darkness at Noon
“الشعرُ شقيق الرسم ، و اللون شقيق الكلمة .”
― Orhan Pamuk, quote from My Name is Red
“EDMUND
*Then with alcoholic talkativeness
You've just told me some high spots in your memories. Want to hear mine? They're all connected with the sea. Here's one. When I was on the Squarehead square rigger, bound for Buenos Aires. Full moon in the Trades. The old hooker driving fourteen knots. I lay on the bowsprit, facing astern, with the water foaming into spume under me, the masts with every sail white in the moonlight, towering high above me. I became drunk with the beauty and signing rhythm of it, and for a moment I lost myself -- actually lost my life. I was set free! I dissolved in the sea, became white sails and flying spray, became beauty and rhythm, became moonlight and the ship and the high dim-starred sky! I belonged, without past or future, within peace and unity and a wild joy, within something greater than my own life, or the life of Man, to Life itself! To God, if you want to put it that way. Then another time, on the American Line, when I was lookout on the crow's nest in the dawn watch. A calm sea, that time. Only a lazy ground swell and a slow drowsy roll of the ship. The passengers asleep and none of the crew in sight. No sound of man. Black smoke pouring from the funnels behind and beneath me. Dreaming, not keeping looking, feeling alone, and above, and apart, watching the dawn creep like a painted dream over the sky and sea which slept together. Then the moment of ecstatic freedom came. the peace, the end of the quest, the last harbor, the joy of belonging to a fulfillment beyond men's lousy, pitiful, greedy fears and hopes and dreams! And several other times in my life, when I was swimming far out, or lying alone on a beach, I have had the same experience. Became the sun, the hot sand, green seaweed anchored to a rock, swaying in the tide. Like a saint's vision of beatitude. Like a veil of things as they seem drawn back by an unseen hand. For a second you see -- and seeing the secret, are the secret. For a second there is meaning! Then the hand lets the veil fall and you are alone, lost in the fog again, and you stumble on toward nowhere, for no good reason!
*He grins wryly.
It was a great mistake, my being born a man, I would have been much more successful as a sea gull or a fish. As it is, I will always be a stranger who never feels at home, who does not really want and is not really wanted, who can never belong, who must always be a a little in love with death!
TYRONE
*Stares at him -- impressed.
Yes, there's the makings of a poet in you all right.
*Then protesting uneasily.
But that's morbid craziness about not being wanted and loving death.
EDMUND
*Sardonically
The *makings of a poet. No, I'm afraid I'm like the guy who is always panhandling for a smoke. He hasn't even got the makings. He's got only the habit. I couldn't touch what I tried to tell you just now. I just stammered. That's the best I'll ever do, I mean, if I live. Well, it will be faithful realism, at least. Stammering is the native eloquence of us fog people.”
― Eugene O'Neill, quote from Long Day's Journey Into Night
Chasing Magic
The Dead
In a Heartbeat
Fate's Edge
NurtureShock: New Th...
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