“There are so many moments to remember and sometimes I think that maybe we're not really people at all. Maybe moments are what we are.... Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.”
“There are moments when you can only stand and stare, watching the world forget you as you remove yourself from it - when you overcome it and cease to exist as the person you were.”
“Sometimes I just survive.
But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.”
“Things always seem to glide away.
They come to you, stay a moment, then leave again.”
“You can do anything when it's not real.
When it is real, nothing breaks your fall. Nothing gets between you and the ground.”
“I've wandered through the real world, and written myself through the darkness of the streets inside me. I see people walking through the city and wonder where they've been, and what the moments of their lives have done to them. If they're anything like me, their moments have held them up and shot them down.
Sometimes I just survive.
But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.
That's when the stories show up in me.
They find me all the time.
They're made of underdogs and fighters. They're made of hunger and desire and trying to live decent.
The only trouble is, I don't know which of those stories comes first.
Maybe they all just merge into one.
We'll see, I guess.
I'll let you know when I decide.”
“If her soul ever leaks, I want it to land on me.”
“I wanted to drown inside a woman in the feeling and drooling of the love I could give her. I wanted her pulse to crush me with its intensity. That's what I wanted. That's what I wanted myself to be.”
“Something I'd like to be perfect at? ... Loving you,' I said. The words climbed from my mouth. 'I'd want to be perfect at loving you.”
“Disbelief held me down inside my footsteps, making my body heavy but my heart wild.”
“I guess when someone tells you something they they usually guard, you feel privileged, not because you know something no-one else knows, but because you feel chosen. You feel like that person wants her life to intersect with yours. I think that's what felt best about it.”
“I'd seen glimpses of a different me. It was a different me because in those increments of time I thought I actually became a winner.
The truth, however, is painful.
It was a truth that told me with a scratching internal brutality that I was me, and that winning wan't natural for me. It had to be fought for, in the echoes and trodden footprints of my mind. In a way, I had to scavenge for moments of alrightness.”
“Shadows of cloud lurked in the water, like holes the sun forgot about.”
“Very quickly, very suddenly, words fell through my mind. They landed on the floor of my thoughts, and in there, down there, I started to pick the words up. They were excerpts of truth gathered from inside me.”
“It feels like spoken words, this bridge. I want it but fear it. God, I want so desperately to reach the other side - just like I want the words. I want my words to build bridges strong enough to walk on. I want them to tower over the world so I can stand up on them and walk to the other side.”
“For a moment, I debated whether I should tell someone about the words I'd started writing down, but I couldn't. In a way, I felt ashamed, even though my writing was the one thing that whispered okayness in my ear. I didn't speak it, to anyone.”
“I s'pose, I can't have it all my own way, can I? You can't drown in a person unless they let you.”
“You ever hear a dog cry, Steve? You know, howling so loud it's almost unbearable?' He nodded. 'I reckon they howl like that because they're so hungry it hurts, and that's what I feel in me every day of my life. I'm so hungry to be somethin' - to be somebody. You hear me?' He did. 'I'm not lyin' down ever. Not for you. Not for anyone.' I ended it. 'I'm hungry, Steve.'
Sometimes I think they're the best words I've ever said.
“Make sure you live,' she said. 'As decent as you can. I know you'll make mistakes, but sometimes you're meant to, okay?”
“As I make my way through, I feel okayness reaching through me.
The funny thing is that okayness is not a real word. It's not in the dictionary.
But it's in me.”
“And when we finally stood up and turned to face the world, I could feel something climbing through me. I could feel it on its hands and knees inside me, rising up, rising up - and I smiled.
I smiled, thinking, The hunger, because I knew it all too well.
Then, slowly, as we walked on, I felt the beauty of it, and I could taste it, like words inside my mouth.”
“What is it about the sound of clapping hands? Why does it seem like an ocean of sound, breaking like waves on top of you? Why does it make a tide turn in you? Maybe it’s because it’s one of the most noble things humans do with their hands. I mean, humans make fists with their hands. They use them to hurt each other and steal things. When humans clap, it’s the one time they stand together and applaud other humans. I think they’re there to keep things. They hold moments together, to remember.”
“He was tall and abrupt and exactly the kind of guy you wanted to be walking the streets with.”
“I told her I loved the howling sound of her harmonica. That seemed to be the limit of my courage that night, and even those spoken words had to struggle their way out of my mouth. It's all very well for words to build bridges, but sometimes I think it's a matter of knowing when to do it. Knowing when the time's right.”
“The Charcoal Sky
Sometimes you go to the wrong place, but the right way comes and finds you. It might make you trip over it or speak to it. Or it might come to you when a day is stripped apart by night and ask you to take its hand and forget this wrong place, this illusion where you stand.
I think of this mess in my mind and the girl who walked through it to stand before me and let her voice come close.
I remember brick walls.
There are moments when you can only stand and stare, watching the world forget you as you remove yourself from it - when you overcome it and cease to exist as the person you were.
It calls your name, but you're gone.
You hear nothing. See nothing.
You've gone somewhere else. You've gone somewhere to find a different definition of yourself, and it's a place where nothing else can touch you. Nothing else can swing on your thoughts. It's only yourself, flat against the charcoal sky, for one moment.
Then flat on the earth again, where the world doesn't recognize you anymore. Your name is what it always was. You look and sound like you always did, yet you're not the same, and when a city wind begins to call you, it's voice doesn't only hit the edges.
It blows into you rather than in spite of you.
Sometimes you feel like it's calling out for you.”
“I tell me:
Let these words be footsteps, because I have a long way to travel. Let the words walk the dirty streets. Let them make their way across the crying grass. Let them stand and breathe and pant smoke in winter evenings. And when they're tired and have fallen down, let them buckle to their feet ad arc around me, watchful.
I want these words to be actions.
Give them flesh and bones, I say to me, and eyes of hunger and desire, so they can write and fight me through the night.”
“We expressed love for this dog by ... knowing without showing that we cared for him.”
“I could smell something. Fear.
I could taste it now.
It tasted like blood in my mouth, and I could feel it slide through me and open me up when I saw him ...”
“But for now, happiness throws stones.
It guards itself.
“I think only one thing.
Where 's Octavia?
As I get closer to the bottom, I notice that it's water that I'm falling into. It's salty-green and smooth, until...
I'm driven through the surface and go deeper. I'm surrounded.
I'm drowning. I think. I'm drowning.
But I'm smiling too.”
“Is almost a good enough reason for fear ?”
“Lawrence arrossì, imbarazzato, poi sorrise. Un uomo innamorato è sempre uno spettacolo penoso.”
“Aveva l'espressione di un astronauta fluttuante nello spazio a cui si è sganciato il cavo e ha una sola possibilità di afferare una corda di salvataggio o di vagare per sempre nel nero infinito. Conoscevo quella sensazione, il panico che sembrava allungare il tempo, che trasformava i secondi in anni, e il dolore di essere feriti non da una persona, ma da molte, una banda di bulli che cresceva fino a includere il tuo quartiere e poi tutta la comunità, fino a spingerti a mettere in dubbio il mondo intero. E l'ultimo pensiero mentre allungavi il braccio fin quasi a sfiorare quella corda di salvataggio è in che modo, se fossi sopravvissuto, avresti potuto riparare quello che si era rotto, per poter dire che sì, volevi di nuovo essere parte di quel mondo.”
“Well! I had the most fantastic dream! Trees crying blood. Horrible dead elves going around and killing people! Raistlin wearing black robes! It was the most incredible thing! And you were there, Sturm. Laurana and Flint. And everyone died! Well, almost everyone. Raistlin didn't. And there was a green dragon-'
Tasslehoff stopped. What was wrong with his friends? Their faces were pale, their eyes wide.”
“For I have known them all already,known them all.
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall,
Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?”
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