The gods are real crazy when it comes to prayers. They listen to some sometimes and do not listen to some sometimes. But the whole world prays, nonetheless-All the time
Perhaps only people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the universe. The others have a certain stickiness, they stick to the mass.
We throw away real people searching for the "perfect" person the same way that we throw ourselves away searching for our "perfect" self.
Remember who you really are. You cannot be destroyed or hurt. You cannot be harmed or killed. You, the real you, will always be present and powerful.
The reason is that even in a fantasy there is nothing even remotely erotic about a toilet bowl. In fact, considered as an accoutrement to a sexual encounter, a toilet bowl is a real cold shower.
Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.
The only real treasure is in your head. Memories are better than diamonds and nobody can steal them from you
As to the other three, if they had been perfection they would not have been real girls, and you could not have wept over their trials and laughed over their pleasures.
...real care means the willingness to help each other in making our brokenness into the gateway to joy.
As a girl, she had come to believe in the ideal man -- the prince or knight of her childhood stories. In the real world, however, men like that simply didn't exist.
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.
The real problem with stories - if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death.
I clearly understand, first, that the real human being is a poet and, second, that [the tyrant] is the incarnate negation of a poet.
Juniper laughed for real, but one of those fake smiles he considered a plague of the Caucasian race followed. If you’re sad, be sad, he wanted to say.
This night felt like a last hurrah, like we could blaze our brightest, at the apex of our insane adolescence. This was our Mardi Gras before the dark days of Lent.
You can't screw up your own suicide and then expect the universe to give you presents wrapped in the skin of a wonderful boy. That's just not the way it works.
Somehow, the pain and rage and confusion of the past eighteen years dissolves until all that is left is this one perfect moment; unscripted, unedited, it's ours and ours alone.
Life is made up of only one thing: the now. The past and the future could be considered dreams, if only they were as real. At least a dream is in the now.
I have this strange feeling none of this is really happening. Like I'm standing far away from myself. Like nothing is real. Have you ever had a feeling like that?
Nothing of real worth can ever be bought. Love, friendship, honour, valour, respect. All these things have to be earned.
There are humans, and there are ghosts. Vampires are just in a different state of transition. Not part of the human world and not part of the spirit world. We are just caught somewhere in between life and the real death.
