I cannot explain, nor must an artist defend his work or elucidate in such a way the reeling audience can fathom, brutes that they are.
Against such odds, I will stand or fall! Whether or not I can rise to surmount the trials before me, I plan to step forward and fight.
You cannot trust yourself,’ she agreed, bed-rock calm. ‘Therefore, let go. Seize life and place trust in me.
Arriving late was a way of saying that your own time was more valuable than the time of the person who waited for you.
In peacetime some sort of introduction is generally required to make a person's acquaintance; in war a small eatable will perform the same office.
But the other Ministers considered that to employ a magician was one thing, novelists were quite another and they would not stoop to it.
I decided that not talking is like a litmus test for a real friend. You can just sit there and be. Not always be filling up the air with words
Surely if we knew what bitterness fate held in store, we would shrink back in fear and let the cup of life pass us by untasted.
This woman is my salvation. She is my anchor in this world. “My angel,” I whisper to her, reminding her who she is to me.
With one kiss, my life had been altered. It would follow a different path now. One where a woman owned my heart.
We might embody those qualities we desire to possess by embracing them, over and over, until the line between seeming and being is no more.
The Devil can quote scripture, after all. And monsters can say "please" and "thank you" same as any mother's son.
She was alive. She was alive, and she had found her power — or it had found her. Tomorrow’s problems she’d take care of tomorrow.
We only have one life to live, and must go on with it to the end, that if we feel it is meaningless, then we ourselves must give it meaning.
Oh, if only I could hurt with such misery once again, to feel the powers of love here inside my heart, the joys of heaven and the pains of hell!
The saxophone does not speak that language. The saxophone speaks the language of the underground, the jaded melancholy of the half-light—grimy and sexy and sweaty and hard. It is the language of orphans and bastards and whores.
She is a loner, too bright for the slutty girls and too savage for the bright girls, haunting the edges and corners of the school like a sullen disillusioned ghost
In the existence of our lives, there are many coincidences that bring people together, but there’s only one person that will own your heart forever.
A familiar name on its own, however, does not carry its bearer far unless the talent is there, and the will to work.
And I've learned to hit the brakes at these kinds of stop signs rather than t-boning a tanker truck filled with 200 proof mediocrity.
Because seeing someone’s heart ripped out, presumably for the first time, is something a person should accept naturally, like finding out there’s no Santa Clause.
