“Actually, I think it's the opposite. We know each other so well there isn't anything left to say. Sometimes it's nice just sitting here with you all, thinking. It's only best friends who can be comfortable with silence, wouldn't you say?”
― Benjamin Wood, quote from The Bellwether Revivals
“My theory is that hope is a form of madness. A benevolent one, sure, but madness all the same. Like an irrational superstition--broken mirrors and so forth--hope's not based on any kind of logic, it's just unfettered optimism, grounded in nothing but faith in things beyond our control.”
― Benjamin Wood, quote from The Bellwether Revivals
“Sometimes, you can hold a grudge for so long you forget why you were holding onto it. And before you know it, half a lifetime has gone by and all you’ve got is a empty fist and a lot of regret.”
― Benjamin Wood, quote from The Bellwether Revivals
“Once you surrender to hope, its a long road back to reason." There was a certain tone of self-loathing in the way Crest said it.”
― Benjamin Wood, quote from The Bellwether Revivals
“And Oscar would tell the old man his only regret: that he was living the unremarkable life his parents had always expected from him.”
― Benjamin Wood, quote from The Bellwether Revivals
“Once you surrender to hope, it’s a long road back to reason.”
― Benjamin Wood, quote from The Bellwether Revivals
“Oscar was raised to believe that if he stayed in his room reading about made up worlds it meant he didn't appreciate the life he had, the possessions his parents had worked hard for, like the TV and the video and the newly turfed back garden.”
― Benjamin Wood, quote from The Bellwether Revivals
“My theory is that hope is a form of madness. A benevolent one, sure, but madness all the same.”
― Benjamin Wood, quote from The Bellwether Revivals
Benjamin Wood
Born place: The United Kingdom
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“I cover my mouth. It’s not funny. It’s really not. But a laugh bubbles through. He looks so discouraged. He balls his hands into a fist. “I’m sorry,” I say, when his eyes narrow at me. “You think this is funny,” he says, and he steps toward me, forcing me to take a step back. My back touches the wall, and his hands land on each side of my head, boxing me in. “You find it amusing, do you?” But his voice has gentled, and he nuzzles his lips against my neck. “Well, the look on your face was pretty priceless,” I say. He finally grins. “The look that said I needed to get the fuck out of there?” He kisses me softly and tenderly, and I realize he has a smudge of lipstick on his cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb. “Did she kiss you?” I ask. “It was more like I had to play ‘Dodge the Kisses,’” he says. “She was determined to get lipstick on me.” I wipe at a smudge that’s on his neck. This should make me angry. They’d hoped to make me angry at Logan. But I’m really just sad. It hurts me that they would try such a thing on such a good man. “I’m sorry,” I say as I place my head on his chest again. He takes a deep breath, and I can feel the tension drain from him.”
― quote from Smart, Sexy and Secretive
“One of the layers was old hurts. How had he managed to bury that? She knew a lot about old hurts, and just how hard they were to keep down in the cellar of things. He didn’t wear his wounds as a point of pride, and many did. He might brood over them from time to time, and she appreciated a good brood herself. But he didn’t appear to let those old wounds, those old scars run his life. On”
― Nora Roberts, quote from High Noon
“If Jesus Christ treated me like you do, I’d drive in the nails myself.”
― Nelson Algren, quote from The Man With the Golden Arm
“The Byronic
hero, incapable of love, or capable only of an impossible love, suffers endlessly. He is solitary, languid,
his condition exhausts him. If he wants to feel alive, it must be in the terrible exaltation of a brief and
destructive action. To love someone whom one will never see again is to give a cry of exultation as one
perishes in the flames of passion. One lives only in and for the moment, in order to achieve "the brief and
vivid union of a tempestuous heart united to the tempest" (lermontov). The threat of mortality which
hangs over us makes everything abortive. Only the cry of anguish can bring us to life; exaltation takes the
place of truth. To this extent the apocalypse becomes an absolute value in which everything is
confounded—love and death, conscience and culpability. In a chaotic universe no other life exists but that
of the abyss where, according to Alfred Le Poittevin, human beings come "trembling with rage and
exulting in
their crimes" to curse the Creator.”
― Albert Camus, quote from The Rebel: An Essay on Man in Revolt
“She had a poignantly vacant, vulnerable quality that made her a reflection of everybody's private fantasies.”
― Andy Warhol, quote from The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again)
Deadhouse Gates
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When Christ and His...
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Casino Royale
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