just a little bit longer, sing: like rain, like sand, like wind in the night, prickling" from the poem - STAY from the book "Riding the Escalator
And the next time I did school stuff in the middle of the night, I just did it in my closet with the door locked. Honestly, what is wrong with this country when striving for excellence means you need antidepressants?
Intermittently she caught the gist of his sentences and supplied the rest from her subconscious, as one picks up the striking of a clock in the middle with only the rhythm of the first uncounted strokes lingering in the mind.
There is something awe-inspiring in one who has lost all inhibitions, who will do anything. Of course we make him pay afterward for his moment of superiority, his moment of impressiveness.
Simultaneously the whole party moved toward the water, super-ready from the long, forced inaction, passing from the heat to the cool with the gourmandise of a tingling curry eaten with chilled white wine.
What could Maria call the time that opened ahead of her? The certainty of her hope? This rejuvenated air she was breathing? This incandescence, this bursting of a love at last without object?
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you, I miss you. Be ready, because when I see you, I'll never let you go again.
Actually that’s my secret — I can’t even talk about you to anybody because I don’t want any more people to know how wonderful you are.
Most people think everybody feels about them much more violently than they actually do; they think other people's opinions of them swing through great arcs of approval or disapproval.
I don't ask you to love me always like this but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight.
Viola to Duke Orsino: 'I'll do my best To woo your lady.' [Aside.] 'Yet, a barful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife.
Durante il fragoroso decollo Dick si sentì intorpidito, rendendosi conto di quanto fosse stanco. Un’enorme persuasiva tranquillità s’impossessò di lui, e lasciò la malattia ai malati, il rumore ai motori, la direzione ai piloti.
My Love Machine is tough. It’s built like a tank. At night I’m romantic and so Sun Tzu I’m Moon Tzu. Come, let me make you howl.
Left-handed and eyes closed, it’s how I masturbate—while driving at night. If you want to know how I make love, you’re going to have to pay for admission.
Give me a moon-blanket night to keep me warm a long-gone smile to comfort me a pair of rain-blue eyes to haunt me a simple soul ...to love me.
Night—it’s the only thing that will cover up one of my black moods. Good thing my depression isn’t an every day kind of thing. It’s an after day thing.
I talked to a calzone for fifteen minutes last night before I realized it was just an introverted pizza. I wish all my acquaintances were so tasty.
The candle glimmers but an hour. The night Looms in its ancient hunger. Would you know The tragedy of human love and need? Gaze on the stars, then on a brother's face!
As the sky prepares to settle its tired, aching feet into the night’s velvet slippers I settle, into my armchair, soaking the teabag, of my thoughts, into warm liquidy stars.
I ran over some dog poop on my drive home last night. But I didn’t feel bad, because I didn’t vote for that particular politician.
I’ve found the safest place to store my valuables is in a trash sack. Unless I invite a bunch of hobos over one night, who’s going to rummage through rubbish?
