Whatever we say We're always telling each other exactly what we want them to know... We are always telling each other The truth Even when We're lying
I want true love in this life, and true contentment and peace. But maybe the only way I can find those things is to let go of the belief that this life is my reality.
The chair I want for my office has wheels, so I can put it on my treadmill and get some exercise while I work. Likewise, we can’t let a love like ours just roll on by without trying to work things out.
My closet’s so full of memories and fearful homosexuals that I have nowhere to hang my clothes. Well, that and I don’t know how to tie a noose. I’m making meatloaf on a stick if you want to come over later and help me prosecute my entire wardro...
We've had enough." He took back the report and jammed it under his arm. "We've had a bellyful, in fact." "And like everyone who's had enough," said Control as Alleline noisily left the room, "he wants more.
There are billions of conversations happening every second, and it’s too bad I can’t listen to more than about half of them at one time. Most are just he said she said chatter, and I want to tell them to go sip on gossip and leave the coffee talk...
Some people sleep their lives away. But I also want to sleep death away. If I sleep long enough, maybe death will think I’m already dead and pass me by.
Then I think of all the tricks, all the minutes all the hours and days and weeks and months and years waiting for me. All of it without them. And I can't breathe then, like someone's stepping on my heart, Laila. So weak I just want to collapse somewh...
On cloudy days I just want to raise my arm up, stand on my toes, and screw a light bulb into the sky. Don’t worry, my light bulb is energy efficient—it runs on solar power.
I want to make a coffee table that consists of a slab of wood supported by four crutches. That way, if a guest ever comes up to me and says, "I accidentally broke one of the legs on your coffee table," I could respond, "Don't worry, those legs are se...
Yes. She got into a right state when she realized no one could read them, though. She's setting up some sort of literacy curse. Some of the boys want to know--is that like gypsy magic? Can you curse someone to read?
I live in a tourist town, and I hang out in souvenir shops because it feels like home. Visitors want to buy everything from postcards to my love, and I love that. However, only the postcards are for sale—and not my love. No, my love is for rent.
I just have a hard time with small talk. My friend Jocelyn says I'm too quiet. But I'm really not quiet. I just tend to come across that way to new people because I don't like to talk first. What if the other person doesn't want to be bothered?
I reach for her hand and wind my fingers through hers, turning them so the rain patters down onto her palm. I trace a circle there with my thumb, smoothing the water in her skin. I want to show her there's nothing to be afraid of.
I was trying to get over you! And it didn’t work. I was meant to walk on this earth with only you, I was meant to give only you every piece of me. I don’t want anyone but you. I love you.
Instead of selling other countries weapons, we should sell them candles. Maybe then instead of singing the praises of war, they’d start singing Happy Birthday. And I don’t know anybody, not even my bully of an uncle, Uncle Sam, who wants to start...
I want a trophy wife, because the only thing I’ve ever won is a fourth-place ribbon in the fourth grade. I’d treat her well, and I wouldn’t let her get too dusty on the shelf.
All children mythologise their birth. It is a universal trait. You want to know someone? Heart, mind and soul? Ask him to tell you about when he was born. What you get won’t be the truth: it will be a story. And nothing is more telling than a story...
Maybe it's impossible to find everything you want in one person. Maybe everyone in your life gives you certain things you need. And your friends give you the rest of what you can't get from your boyfriend.
Reality, my strange and precious one. Reality is fabric. Fabric is reality. And your reality here is far easier to live with than where I was on the other side. So that’s why I don’t want to go back, and why you wouldn’t like it.
Singapore is what your city could become if everyone obeyed the rules, did their jobs diligently, and just shut up. When your city gets to be this paragon of efficiency and discipline, would you still want to live there? Singapore is a model city, wh...
