“When you love someone, you don't want to hurt them, even if they deserve to be hurt. When you love someone, you want to hurt them, even when they don't deserve to be hurt.”
“Sometimes the little things in life mean the most.”
“I want to open myself, let him inside. But how do I give what has already been taken?”
“I don't need more pain in my life. Why did I invite it in? Do I have to feel pain to believe I feel anything at all?”
“God i've missed you. I can't wait to give you your present. He kisses me hotter this time, and beneath me, through his denim and mine. I can feel the promise of his Christmas gift soon to come.”
“Six months since we met up
again we are inseparable,
an intricate weave.
No longer do I believe
this is a temporary fling.
More like total commitment.
More like I have walked
down the aisle, holding
hands with the monster.”
“Yeah, I know getting high isn't so smart. Ask me if I care.”
“I feel like a goddess, jailed in her Olympus. Little wonder how the gods toyed with humans. Toyed with women, to watch them squirm, pollinate the seeds of despair; toyed with men, to satiate their Seven Deadly Sins.”
“Life was radical right after I met the monster.
Later, life became harder, complicated.
Ultimately, a living hell, like swimming against a riptide,
Walking the wrong direction in the fast lane of the freeway,
Waking from sweetest dreams to find yourself in the middle of a nightmare.”
“When you love someone,
you don't want to hurt
them, even if they deserve
to be hurt. When you love
someone, you want to hurt
them, even when they don't
deserve to be hurt.”
“But how do you tell your heart, “No, don't swell with magic, you'll only burst?” How do you tell it to clamp itself off from possibilities? God knows I don't need more pain in life. Why did I invite it in? Do I have to feel pain to believe I feel anything at all?”
“Without a doubt I understand the monster and I are more than just friends. We're blood brothers.”
why not die happy,
why not die buzzed,
why not die
satisfied? Why not
die sooner, with
fewer regrets, than
“I have to tell him how much i miss him when he's not here. So I snug my face against his pulse in his neck. "I love you" I wait, barely about to breathe. He tightens his arms around me. "I know, and how luck that makes me." I watch him go, wondering just what the fuck that meant to me.”
“I want to be stunned by passion so intense it knocks me right off my feet, down to my knees, where I know I'll surrender to this luscious insanity.”
“The problem with sex
Is that it changes everything.
Brad and I are still friends.
But we're a different kind
of friends. More than pals.
More, even, than fuck buddies.
It's like we're stand-ins
for the true loves of our lives.
And the only way to be that
is to let ourselves love
“Have you ever tried
a bad habit, one
that has come to define you?”
“I talk about the gods, I am an atheist. But I am an artist too, and therefore a liar. Distrust everything I say. I am telling the truth. The only truth I can understand or express is, logically defined, a lie. Psychologically defined, a symbol. Aesthetically defined, a metaphor.”
“He was contemplation and enthusiasm. Ambition and strong coffee. I could have looked at him forever.”
“When did the body first set out on its own adventures? Snowman thinks; after having ditched its old travelling companions, the mind and the soul, for whom it had once been considered a mere corrupt vessel or else a puppet acting out their dramas for them, or else bad company, leading the other two astray. it must have got tired of the soul’s constant nagging and whining and the anxiety-driven intellectual web-spinning of the mind, distracting it whenever it was getting its teeth into something juicy or its fingers into something good. It had dumped the other two back there somewhere, leaving them stranded in some damp sanctuary or stuffy lecture hall while it made a beeline for the topless bars, and it had dumped culture along with them: music and painting and poetry and plays. Sublimation, all of it; nothing but sublimation, according to the body. Why not cut to the chase?
But the body had its own cultural forms. It had its own art. Executions were its tragedies, pornography was its romance.”
“save they shall cast these things away, and consider themselves fools before God, and come down in the depths of humility, he will not open unto them.”
“As long as Mumma was alive, she knew that some small part of herself had remained a child, cherished and adored. Perhaps you never completely grew up until your mother died.”
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