“The silence is the worst part of any fight, because it's made up of all the things we wish we could say, if only we had the guts.”
“I'm an insomniac, my mind works the night shift.”
“Love exists in powder. Love exists in pills. We are all addicts.”
“Freud suggests that in order to love someone else, one must love themselves; it's a classic "needs before other needs" argument. Unfortunately, no one really loves themselves . And, if they do, they need to get to know themselves better. Unfortunately, no one is really happy.”
“I’m not just taking trips down memory lane; I’m broken down on it.”
“I’ve always been a dreamer, have always believed
in the power of love and art and loud, life-affirming rock and roll, but, for the first time,
I’m starting to have doubts. Can a dream even exist in reality? Or does it turn to stone
the second it leaves your mind?”
“For whatever reason, it seems like we’re against love. Everyone. People think love equates to weakness, or gullibility, or an unwillingness to deal with reality, so they try to
ruin it, the social scientists and the admen, with studies and lingerie shows and boxes of candy. They try to invalidate it, dirty it up, but they can’t, because people in love know
the truth. They know love is good and pure and really the most beautiful thing in the world. They know love is greater than anything, greater even than God. At first, I didn’t
believe it, but I do now. You have made me realize it. Being away from you has been the hardest thing I have ever done. I am shaking and sweating. I am going into withdrawal. I need you. You are my withdrawal. You are my blood.
I want to protect you from all of this. When it’s all over, I want to run away with you and never come back. I want to be buried in the ground with you. It’s the only way we can keep this pure and beautiful, I’m afraid. We have to stay away from this whole life. We have to be normal. We have to get married and move to Berkeley. Our love can’t
survive like this, no matter how hard we try. I’m quitting the band. I’m coming home. I need you.”
“We are symbolic. We are driving to the edge of the city and talking in vague-yet-resolute certainties about our dreams and our futures. We are leaving certain things in the medicine cabinet. We are falling in love.”
“Our brains may lie to us, but our hearts never do.”
“there’s really nowhere else I can go, and even if there were, it wouldn’t make a difference
because I’d just be running from myself, and you can’t do that no matter how hard you
try, and trying hard is what got you in this predicament in the first place.”
“However,
when given the chance, many people choose cocaine over love. I wouldn’t say that’s a
bad choice. The endorphins released during infatuation are similar to heroin. OxyContin,
“the cuddling hormone,” most often found in new mothers and newlyweds, is like ecstasy;
every touch tingles. I think I read that somewhere. Love exists in powder. Love exists in
pills. We are all addicts.”
“Let’s just make it through tonight, worry about the rest later.”
“It’s all the same to me—a fucking red flag
emblazoned with the words DO NOT BECOME EMOTIONALLY INVOLVED WITH ME, and this bed is barely big enough for my own baggage.”
“Someone once told me that digging up the past has two sides: The pro is that you remember things you had forgotten about. Unfortunately, the con is the exact same thing. That may scare some people away, might force them to always be moving forward, never looking back, not for a second.”
“I've always believed in God. I'm just not so sure he believes in me.”
“She is all I could ever ask for, she is perfect, and right now, with those big, green eyes and pillowy lips and alabaster thighs, the idea of doing this for the rest of our lives doesn’t seem all that daunting. She’s the last reprieve. The stay of execution. She gives me hope. But times are tough for dreamers. And even if my dream is a simple one—all I want is for Her to be in love with me forever—I know it’s still a long shot. Life ruins everything.”
“Fear owns me because I let it. Because I obsess over it, name it, raise it, and nurture it to become perfect. It is one of the few things in my life that I can control.”
“Just a tiny red sliver remains in the battery icon. I wish humans came with the same kind of indicator . . . it
would make things much easier. You would know how to deal with every person on the planet, and I’d always be in the red.”
“There she is, lying in front of me, smoking a cigarette, thinking of something or someone else. And that’s how she is stuck in my mind forever.
We are two explorers in the dark. Mapless and hopeless. Alone together.”
“This is how your heart gets
snagged, like a balloon on a barbed-wire fence, this is where pieces of you get torn away.”
“That’s the problem with all of this. No matter how hard I try, I can’t make it perfect. I can’t keep it in a bottle, can’t ignore reality. Chemicals are involved, the kind scientists try
to synthesize and put into pill form, and they’re making tremendous advances every day. They’re winning the war against love. It’s probably inevitable now. There are only two ways to see the world: either no one and nothing is connected to anything, or we are all
a random series of carbon molecules connected to each other. Tell me if there’s room for love in either of those scenarios.”
“The hardest part of watching someone watching me is making it appear that I'm not watching.”
“Life is a deep and contemplative story stuck on repeat. love, loss, self-destruction, self-discovery”
“The world spins along outside, the sun
rises and sets, the streets go dark, the lights come on. The future is happening, but it can wait until tomorrow. Neither of us knows what will come next, or where we go from here,
or even what anyone will say about us, but none of it matters. We’ve got each other right now.”
“But our love isn’t easy because it’s not meant to be. It requires
work and sacrifice and protection. And I wouldn’t want it any other way, not right now, with the morning sun making the curtains glow and Her arms around my neck and the sounds of the street so far away. I’m in it for the long haul, I’m not going away.”
“I want so badly to tell Her it’s going to be all right, that I’ll leave
the band and forget this silly crusade. I want to tell Her that I am ready to settle for this life, that she is all I will ever need in the world, and that we’ll never be apart. I want to tell Her that I will protect Her forever. But none of that would be the truth. So I don’t say
anything at all.”
“My conflicts of conscience are about the only battles I’m fighting these days, and I’m willing to fight until the end. There is something freeing
about this life, about living out of a single backpack and disappearing into the night. About smelling terrible and never remembering people’s names. About never having to say you’re sorry. We exist outside of society. We stay up late and sleep even later. We
are bandits, pirates, serial killers. The dregs. Someone should lock us up and never let us out again. But instead, they give us their money, they offer us their beds. We are not
going to pay for the beer. We are not going to be back here for a good, long while. We have prior engagements. We have the money in a duffel bag. We have no shame. Fuck guilt. Back to life.”
“What are you looking at?” she asks.
What am I looking at? My future wife? The mother of my children? The person I was
put on this earth to find? Yes.”
“My body is a metronome, keeping time for the universe...”
“I am a corpse bored with my own funeral. I live like a gypsy, only with less gold and maybe more curses.”
“Anyone who wants to help me doesn't. Anyone who wants to kill me might. Anyone who wants to love me better not.”
“She is not for you. She is a wild one--wild, without shame. This is not a bride for a rabbi".”
“DNA was the chemical material on which hereditary information was recorded, while a gene was one unit of that nearly infinite amount of hereditary information.”
“Television completes the cycle of the human sensorium. With the omnipresent ear and the moving eye, we have abolished writing, the specialized acoustic-visual metaphor that established the dynamics of Western civilization.”
“to the past: gone but not forgotten. For the past hour he had”
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