Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
There are no endings.
In love and faith I just have to believe
The days passed, as they do, and life went on.
That's what happens. You just get on with it. There are no endings.
It’s always hard to lose somebody. It leaves a hole in you heart that never grows back.
Memories have no life. They're just pale reminders of a time that's gone-like faded photographs.
Because some things are never meant to be anything more than a moment. And that was one of them.
never feel guilty about anything shame and guilt are a waste of time just do what you do-- and deal with it
I used to come here on my own sometimes... Id' stay down here for ages." Her voice was barely audible. "It's a good place for sadness.
The sadness, the silence, the darkness, the loneliness... all of it held in a simple little moment. It was just so... I don't know. Just so much.
It was a truth that invaded her, like a dark disease, a truth too painful to talk about. And I was beginning to wonder if all I was doing was making it worse.
It won't make you feel any better, he told me, it might even make things worse for a while. But you mustn't let the sadness die inside you. You have to give it some life.
Trust, faith,good, bad... none of it matters. All you ever do is what you have to do. Follow your disires, fulfill your needs, escape from pain. That's all there is to it.
She moved closer to me, put her hands to my face, and kissed me softly on the lips. God, it felt so good. So perfect, so right... It felt so good, I nearly fell off the roof.
I'm still living it now, every day, living it out in my mind - following the ups and downs, walking the pathways, reliving the moments of our Moonlight World... It's a day that never dies.
his eyes took in the barren slopes and the scattered boulders and the lonley gray road windingits way into the fading hills,and i could feel him thinking to himself this is no place to die
The only difference now, for what it's worth, is that I know that these things don't matter. I know that I don't have to know anything, and I know that I don't have to fell frightened of not knowing-I just have to be here
Staring in the darkness, trying to sleep. My body was aching with tiredness. My limbs were numb. My sightless eyes were crazed with light/ I was dying of oblivion, but it wouldn't come. I didn't think I've ever sleep again.
I wanted to turn everything off, too. Just press a button - click - and shut myself down. Turn off my heart, turn off my mind, turn off my body - just lie there, senseless, like a dormant tree in winter, waiting for the spring to return.
I didn't want us to abnormal. I didn't want all this chaos and underworld crap... but that's where we'd come from. The choas was part of us. Part of what we were. And I was afraid if we lost it completely, we might lose part of ourselves.
I was thinking about all these things and more, but I wasn't really thinking about them at all. They were just there, floating around in the back of my mind, thinking about themselves. What I was really thinking about, of course, was Lucas.
It's not easy-living in a void, living and dying inside your head…wanting what you want so much that you'd give everything else to get it- but the time still passes, the days go on…and as long as there's still a tomorrow, there's always a chance.
It's strange, the lack of emotion, the absence of drama in reality. When things happen in real life, extraordinary things, there's no music, there's no dah-dah-daaahhs. There's no close-ups. No dramatic camera angles. Nothing happens. Nothing stops, the rest of the world goes on.
Things don't just happen, they have reasons. And the reasons have reasons. And the reasons for the reasons have reasons. And then the things that happen make other things happen, so they become reasons themselves. Nothing moves forward in a straight line, nothing is straightforward.
Imagine: you've spent all day traipsing round London, lost in a maze of chaos, trying to find a hidden illusion; you've been living on hope, ignoring reality, fuelled only by feelings you don't understand. You've been looking for a dream, never truly believing you'd find it, but now – incredibly – you have. It's right there in front of you – just behind that off-white door. It's there ...
I remember it all: every word, every breath, every tick of the clock . . . everything that happened is with me forever. I can never forget it. But that dosen't mean I can live it again. You can't live what's gone, you can only remember it, and memories have no life. They're just pale reminders of a time that's gone - like faded photographs, or a dried-up daisy chain at the back of a drawer. They have no substance. They can't take you back. Nothing can take you back. Nothing can be the same as it was. Nothing is. All I can do is tell it.
To me a good book is like a quiet friend—a friend who’s happy to share thoughts and feelings with you, who’s always there when you need them. Best of all, this friend doesn’t have any secrets. They trust you to understand them. They take you to their innermost places. They share their sensations and emotions—and they let you experience them. Wherever you go and however you feel, they are always by your side. For an hour, a day, a week, or forever, their life becomes yours. Their story is your story. That’s the kind of book I’m trying to write.