Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
I thought you didn't want to let me go.
I love you," you said, simple as anything.
You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.
Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.
Your eyes were too intense to stare into for long.
How would she find her herd? How would she find you?
The people we care for aren't always the one we should
The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.
And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.
I was surprised at her gentleness, her willingness to give in.
How long will you keep me?" I asked. You shrugged. "Forever, of course.
It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.
You're right, he's a killer," you said. "A rooster with some serious issues.
Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.
There is no need to put your heart in a bottle, then you will die. - Ty from Stolen
When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
The land wants you here. I want you here," you called. "Don't you care about that at all?
It didn't make me glow. I felt more like I was fading away, like the world had forgotten me.
Because it's magic, this place . . . beautiful. And you're beautiful . . . beautifully separate. It all fits.
But without humans, the wild would take over. It would only take a hundred years or so for nature to win again.
It was like I existed in a kind of parallel universe, thinking thoughts and feelings that no one else understood.
You saw me before I saw you. You had that look in your eyes, as if you wanted something. Wanted it for a long time.
I remember that feeling of skin. It's strange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingers still tingle with it.
You smiled then, and your whole face changed with it. It kind of lit up, like there were sunbeams coming from inside you.
This be OK?' I asked, innocently. 'You want me to have no skin left?' You rolled your eyes. Actually, don't answer that one.
I want you to see that the person I glimpsed running beside the camel, running to save my life, is the person you can choose to be.
Where are you going?" I asked. "The middle of nowhere." "I thought this was it." "Nah." You shook your head. "This is just the edge.
People love what they're used to, I guess." "No." You shook your head. "People should love what needs loving. That way they can save it.
I stayed there, curled up into the warmth of your body, under the blankets, like something soft in a shell. Your arms were firm as rock around me.
You looked at me, your eyes huge. You we're like a dog then, waiting for me to throw you a bone . . . waiting for something I could never give you.
Those blue, blue eyes, icy blue, looking back at me as if I could warm them up. They’re pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful, too.
I didn’t look back, but I knew you were still watching. It probably sounds weird, but I could just feel it. The hairs on my neck bristled when you blinked.
I thought you wanted to catch a camel," you tried again. "No." "I want to." "Well, you go then." You laughed. "I want your beautiful face where I can see it
I craved your warmth. I hugged myself, rubbing my fingers up and down. I guess people are like insects sometimes, drawn to heat, A kind of infra-red longing.
If there'd been an astronaut on the moon right then, I'm sure I could have seen him. Perhaps he could have looked down and seen me too... the only one who could.
I remember the lights turning into blurs of blazing fire. I remember the air-conditioning chilling my arms. The smell of coffee smudging into the smell of eucalyptus.
I could hear you, talking to the daffodils and tulips, whispering to the fairies that lived inside their petals. Each separate flower had a different family inside it.
The sun was bobbing on the horizon, just peeking over. Its light shimmered on the sand behind you, making your body look like it was glowing … like it had a kind of aura.
The sand stretched out gray and ghostlike and illuminated, a column of light leading forward. It was like something a dead person would see, a tunnel leading toward heaven.
Doesn't that hurt?" I said. "Yep." "How do you keep them in there?" "I'm stubborn." You grinned. "Stubborn as a waddywood. And anyway, pain means it's healing." "Not always.
In a moment, when I'm ready, I will turn off this computer and that will be it. This letter will be finished. A part of me doesn't want to stop writing to you, but I need to. For both of us.
Nobody's bought this land. And no one's going to want it either. It's dying land, lonely land." "Like me, then," I said. "Yes, like you." You chewed the corner of your lip. "You both need saving.
One day they'll let you out of that dry, empty cell. You'll return to the Separates, and you'll feel the rain once more. And you'll grow straight, this time, toward this sunlight. I know you will.
I chased money, pretended to be someone else to get it. It got easier the longer I did it... but that's the trap, see? When the deadness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
But what else can I do, other than to plead with you like this? Other than to write down my story, our story, to show you that what you've done . . . to make you realize that what you did wasn't fair, wasn't right.
It happened like this. I was stolen from an airport. Taken from everything I knew, everything I was used to. Taken to sand and heat, dirt and danger. And he expected me to love him. This is my story. A letter from nowhere.
I’d never seen a man cry before, only on TV. I’d never even seen Dad close to crying. Those tears looked so odd on you. It was like the strength of you just seemed to sap away. The surprise of it stopped me from being so scared.
I mean, that star over there is blinking at me madly now, but for how long? An hour or two, or for the next million years? And how long will we sit here like this? Just another moment, or the rest of our lives? You know which one I'd prefer.