We play phone tag, back and forth, the kind of tag where it's clear we're avoiding each other, where no one wants to be touched, tagged, you're it
Good digestions, the gray monotony of provincial life, and the boredom—ah the soul-destroying boredom—of long days of mild content.
You are in no man's land. Which never moves, which never changes, which never grows older, but remains forever, icy and silent.
They hate because they fear, and they fear because they feel that the deepest feelings of their lives are being assaulted and outraged. And they do not know why; they are powerless pawns in a blind play of social forces.
Well, memory can play tricks. Most people, I think, tend to remember the good rather than the bad when someone close to them dies.
We seek out other people to fight off the loneliness but it's like we're children playing at pretend. We are alone in everything we do, Livy. Alone but not without company.
Lo! 'tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre, to see A play of hopes and fears [...]
So basically, you get to play Super Mario all you want, any time you want, for !" "That is the single most amazing thing I've ever heard.
The voice sang on, “I am ready, I am ready, I am fine. I am fine, I am fine, I am fine.” I played it again. I was not fine.
I knew it was Peter playing. I fancied he was trying to tell me something - an absurd idea, but it persisted - 'I may not be able to spell, but just you listen to this.
She had the hard, half-apathetic expression of one who deems anything possible at the hands of time and chance, except perhaps fair play
Maybe the trick is for me to always be in some sort of disguise, to always be dressed to play someone else. Only then can I really appreciate myself.
Love is very real and it's dangerous. People do crazy things in the name of love. Bad things. Love is powerful and shouldn't be played with.
Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose their common sense. They listen so much that they forget to be natural. This is a nice story.
If I hung out with Van Gogh, I don’t know what we’d do. We’d just play it by ear, I guess.
I’d like to write a screenplay about my grandpa, and I’d like my future grandson to play the part. Talk about a mindfuck!
Walking out into the night with a water fey was all kinds of stupid. Heck, Kelpies eat people. They may not play with their food as creatively as the Each Uisge, but dead is dead.
Because in the end, we die. It’s like Chekhov observed in so many of his plays: ‘in two hundred years, no one will even know we were here.
Shakespeare's Iago could be played as a soul in hell, driven, dark and desperate, willing to do anything, willing to use anyone, in order to escape from that hell.
It was like watching a movie being played on the blank screen of his mind; the only difference was that he did not get bored, no matter how many times he watched it.
The music was so mournful and emotional that it seemed like the only suitable thing to play.
