This Is My Last Poem Quotes

No blame. No regrets. Gratitude and happiness in every direction. ~ J.T. Gillett

What's the big idea?" Sabrina demanded.
"I declared war on you, remember?" Puck said.
Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Is this another one of your stupid pranks?"
Puck sniffed. "You have contaminated me with your puberty virus and you called my villainy into question."
"First of all, puberty isn't a virus," Sabrina said as she fought a tug of was with the Pegasus for her now rather damp pillow."Secondly, I'm sorry if I gave you the itty-bitty baby and boo-boo face. Do you wasnt me to give you a hug?"
Puck curled his lip in anger.
"Oh, now is the baby cranky. Perhaps we should put him down for a nap?"
"We'll see who's laughing soon enough," Puck said. "You see these flying horses?"
"Duh!"
"These horses have a very special diet," Puck said. "For the last two days they have eaten nothing but chili dogs and prune juice."
Sabrina heard a rumble coming from Puck's horse. It was so loud it drowned out the sound of its beating wings. Sabrina couldn't tell if the churn of the sound was worse for the Pegasus but it whined a bit and its eyes bulged nervously.
Puck continued. "Now, chili dogs and prune juice are a hard combination on a person's belly. It can keep a human being on the toilet for a week. Imagine what would happen if I fed chili dogs and prune juice to an eight-hundred-and-fifty-pound flying horse. Oh, wait a minute! You don't have to imagine it. I did feed chili dogs and prune juice to an eight-hundred-and-fifty-po ~ Michael Buckley

I certainly have many enemies, and this is what will be my destruction if I am destroyed; of that I am certain; not Meletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy and detraction of the world, which has been the death of many good men, and will probably be the death of many more; there is no danger of my being the last of them. ~ Plato

In my view, there is no justice when the 15 wealthiest people in this country in the last two years, saw their wealth increase by $170 billion. That is more wealth acquired in a two year period than is owned by the bottom 130 million Americans. ~ Bernie Sanders

Are you pulling my leg?" she asked. "Can you really dissect fragrances just by a simple sniff?" He looked befuddled. "Yes, I can tell exactly what is in almost any fragrance, but I am not pulling your leg. I have not touched your leg or any part of your body. I would not do so after the last time you were here and I treated you badly." He was utterly serious, and Libby had to stifle a laugh as she passed the cake of soap back to him. "I apologize. Pulling my leg is a figure of speech, not something to be taken literally. I was asking if you are teasing me." Understanding dawned in his eyes. "Ah. I see. Well, Miss Liberty Sawyer, you seem like the type of person I would like to tease were I free to do so, but I was not teasing you. I think you are a much better artist than the person who painted this soap label. He obviously wanted something pretty, but I think you would want something accurate. Am I right?" She nodded. "You are right. ~ Elizabeth Camden

From the hood of his car, he hefted a large green insulated pack - the kind Fadlan's Falafel used for deliveries. "This is for you, Magnus. I hope you enjoy."
The scent of fresh falafel wafted out. True, I'd eaten falafel just a few hours ago, but my stomach growled because ... well, more falafel. "Man, you're the best. I can't believe - Wait. You're in the middle of a fast and you brought me food? That seems wrong."
"Just because I'm fasting doesn't mean you can't enjoy." He clapped me on my shoulder. "You'll be in my prayers. All of you."
I knew he was sincere. Me, I was an atheist. I only prayed sarcastically to my own father for a better colour of boat. Learning about the existence of Norse deities and the Nine Worlds had just made me more convinced that there was no grand divine plan. What kind of God would allow Zeus and Odin to run around the same cosmos, both claiming to be the king of creation, smiting mortals with lightning bolts and giving motivational seminars?
Bur Amir was a man of faith. He and Samirah believed in something bigger, a cosmic force that actually cared about humans. I suppose it was kind of comforting to know Amir had my back in the prayer department, even if I doubted there was anybody at the end of that line.
"Thanks, man." I shook his hand one last time. ~ Rick Riordan

This is the first year for me as a teacher and, by the looks of this class, I'm hoping it won't be my last. ~ Phil Wohl

Where were you this morning?" Peter demands.
I cross my arms and try to stand tall. It's hard, because I'm so short and he really is tall. "You're one to talk."
Peter huffs, "At least I texted you! I've called you like seventeen times. Why is your phone off?"
"You know we're not allowed to have our phones on at school!"
He huffs, "Lara Jean, I waited in front of your house for twenty minutes."
Yikes. "Well, I'm sorry."
"How'd you get to school? Sanderson?"
"Yes."
Peter exhales. "Listen, if you were pissed I couldn't come over last night, you should've just called and said so instead of the shit you pulled this morning."
In a small voice I say, "Well, what about that shit you pulled last night?"
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Did you just say 'shit'? It sounds really funny coming out of your mouth. ~ Jenny Han

I know you," he added, helping to arrange the blanket over my shoulders. "You won't drop the subject until I agree to check on your cousin, so I'll do it. But only under one condition."
"John," I said, whirling around to clutch his arm again.
"Don't get too excited," he warned. "You haven't heard the condition."
"Oh," I said, eagerly. "Whatever it is, I'll do it. Thank you. Alex has never had a very good life-his mother ran away when he was a baby, and his dad spent most of his life in jail…But, John, what is all this?" I swept my free hand out to indicate the people remaining on the dock, waiting for the boat John had said was arriving soon. I'd noticed some of them had blankets like the one he'd wrapped around me. "A new customer service initiative?"
John looked surprised at my change of topic…then uncomfortable. He stooped to reach for the driftwood Typhon had dashed up to drop at his feet. "I don't know what you mean," he said, stiffly.
"You're giving blankets away to keep them warm while they wait. When did this start happening?"
"You mentioned some things when you were here the last time…." He avoided meeting my gaze by tossing the stick for his dog. "They stayed with me."
My eyes widened. "Things I said?"
"About how I should treat the people who end up here." He paused at the approach of a wave-though it was yards off-and made quite a production of moving me, and my delicate slippers, out of its path. "So I decided to make a few ~ Meg Cabot

There comes an end to all things; the most capacious measure is filled at last; and this brief condescension to evil finally destroyed the balance of my soul. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Naked Girl and Mirror

This is not I. I had no body once-
only what served my need to laugh and run
and stare at stars and tentatively dance
on the fringe of foam and wave and sand and sun.
Eyes loved, hands reached for me, but I was gone
on my own currents, quicksilver, thistledown.
Can I be trapped at last in that soft face?

I stare at you in fear, dark brimming eyes.
Why do you watch me with that immoderate plea-
'Look under these curled lashes, recognize
that you were always here; know me-be me.'
Smooth once-hermaphrodite shoulders, too tenderly
your long slope runs, above those sudden shy
curves furred with light that spring below your space.

No, I have been betrayed. If I had known
that this girl waited between a year and a year,
I'd not have chosen her bough to dance upon.
Betrayed, by that little darkness here, and here
this swelling softness and that frightened stare
from eyes I will not answer; shut out here
from my own self, by its new body's grace-

for I am betrayed by someone lovely. Yes,
I see you are lovely, hateful naked girl.
Your lips in the mirror tremble as I refuse
to know or claim you. Let me go-let me be gone.
You are half of some other who may never come.
Why should I tend you? You are not my own;
you seek that other-he will be your home.

Yet I pity your eyes in the mirror, misted ~ Judith A. Wright

When that happens you'll say, like Jewel the Unicorn at the end of The Chronicles of Narnia, "I've come home at last! This is my real country ... This is the land I've been looking for all my life."15 ~ Timothy Keller

So this is Canada," I said, looking outside my car door.
"For the last time, it's not Canada," Sydney replied, rolling her eyes. "It's northern Michigan."
I glanced around, seeing nothing but enormous trees in every direction. Despite it being a late August afternoon, the temperature could've easily passed for something in autumn. Craning my head, I just barely caught a glimpse of gray waters beyond the trees to my right: Lake Superior, according to the map I'd seen.
"Maybe it's not Canada," I conceded. "But it's exactly how I always imagined Canada would look. Except I thought there'd be more hockey. ~ Richelle Mead

Really, awfully, terribly, I had a sudden attack of hiccups. I was staring at the Doctor, murderously angry with him. And hiccuping ...
'That's it. I'm going down there. I'm offering myself to them instead. If you're too much of a coward.'
The Doctor winced at that last word.
I hiccuped again.
'Amy Pond,' he said. 'Try holding your breath.'
'I will not hold my breath! This is important! Rory is having his mind vacuumed and we're just standing here-'
'Hiccuping.'
'Yes.'
We stood, glaring at each other. I hiccuped again.
'Seriously,' said the Doctor, patiently. 'I know it's not the best time, but really, try holding your breath.'
I stood there. Hiccuping and scowling at him. ~ James Goss

Finding her voice at last, she asked, "What dreams are you having, sir?"
"I dreamt I was in a spring field and a woman stands in the shadows just at the edge of the nearby forest. I haven't yet seen her face, only her long beautiful hair. I always wake too soon." He reached up to touch the hawk touchstone around his throat as he described his dream, rubbing it absently between his fingers.
Lily lowered her lashes to hide her astonishment. "When you see someone in a dream but cannot see their face, it means you haven't met them yet," she explained.
"Then perhaps I'll dream of her again tonight and this time I'll see her face." He smiled, reaching across the table to take her left hand and lift it to his lips. "My name is Ian Kelly, and it would give me the greatest pleasure to know yours."
"Lily Evans. Around here I go by Raven." She raised a shoulder, indicating the gypsy tent.
"Lily--indeed, a most beautiful name. Now tell me," he stared pointedly at her hand, "I see no ring that another has claimed you as his, so my confidence is strengthened. Look at your cards again, milady, and tell me if you see me in your future… ~ Shannon MacLeod

Ham turned back, still smiling. "You make it sound so desperate, El."
Elend looked over at him. "The Assembly is a mess, a half-dozen warlords with superior armies are breathing down my neck, barely a month passes without someone sending assassins to kill me, and the woman I love is slowly driving me insane."
Vin snorted at this last part.
"Oh is that all?" Ham said. "See? It's not so bad after all. I mean, we could be facing an immortal god and his all-powerful priests instead. ~ Brandon Sanderson

•"As I was leaving this morning, I said to myself, 'The last thing you must do is forget your speech.' And, sure enough, as I left the house this morning, the last thing I did was to forget my speech. ~ Rowan Atkinson

In my eyes, this one is the most amazing person I've ever met. And maybe some people would say that I loved him too much and forgot myself in the process, but from what I've seen of relationships, there's always that one person who does. Last ~ Amber L. Johnson

That will be your married look, I, as a Christian, will soon give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander. But what had you to ask, thing, - out with it?" "There, you are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great deal better than flattery. I had rather be a thing than an angel. This is what I have to ask, - Why did you take such pains to make me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?" "Is that all? Thank God it is no worse!" And now he unknit his black brows; looked down, smiling at me, and stroked my hair, as if well pleased at seeing a danger averted. "I think I may confess," he continued, "even although I should make you a little indignant, Jane - and I have seen what a fire-spirit you can be when you are indignant. You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal. Janet, by-the-bye, it was you who made me the offer. ~ Charlotte Bronte

I will argue until my last breath for a pathway to citizenship that is quick and efficient because I want to end this chapter. I want to end it ... But let me say, conversely, I am as committed as any Republican to ending illegal immigration as we know it ... They want to end it. So do I. ~ Luis Gutierrez

What excuses have you to offer, my heart, for so many shortcomings? Such constancy on the part of the Beloved, such unfaithfulness on your own!
So much generosity on his side, on yours such niggling contrariness! So many graces from him, so many faults committed by you!
Such envy, such evil imaginings and dark thoughts in your heart, such drawing, such tasting, such munificence by him!
Why all this tasting? That your bitter soul may become sweet. Why all this drawing? That you may join the company of the saints.
You are repentant of your sins, you have the name of God on your lips; in that moment he draws you on, so that he may deliver you alive.
You are fearful at last of your wrongdoings, you seek desperately a way to salvation; in that instant why do you not see by your side him who is putting such fear into your heart? ~ Jalaluddin Rumi

Last month, on a very windy day, I was returning from a lecture I had given to a group in Fort Washington. I was beginning to feel unwell. I was feeling increasing spasms in my legs and back and became anxious as I anticipated a difficult ride back to my office. Making matters worse, I knew I had to travel two of the most treacherous high-speed roads near Philadelphia – the four-lane Schuylkill Expressway and the six-lane Blue Route.

You've been in my van, so you know how it's been outfitted with everything I need to drive. But you probably don't realize that I often drive more slowly than other people. That's because I have difficulty with body control. I'm especially careful on windy days when the van can be buffeted by sudden gusts. And if I'm having problems with spasms or high blood pressure, I stay way over in the right hand lane and drive well below the speed limit.

When I'm driving slowly, people behind me tend to get impatient. They speed up to my car, blow their horns, drive by, stare at me angrily, and show me how long their fingers can get. (I don't understand why some people are so proud of the length of their fingers, but there are many things I don't understand.) Those angry drivers add stress to what already is a stressful experience of driving.

On this particular day, I was driving by myself. At first, I drove slowly along back roads. Whenever someone approached, I pulled over and let them pass. But as I neared the Blue Route, ~ Daniel Gottlieb

I know I have to let him go, even though I don't want to. Whatever weird-ass relationship we had is over, and this is the last time I'll be with him. As the thought solidifies, it feels like I've been buried under an avalanche of stone. I can't breathe. Tears prick the back of my eyes, but they don't fall. I wish I was numb. I wish I could say yes to him. I wish I had a different life, because this one is so horrendously unfair. ~ H.M. Ward

This is how my day usually goes.
I leave the faucet open and know what it's like
to have my fingers around a minuscule whirlpool,
and I cry, hoping if I do it for hours
the water will end up tasting like the ocean,
just so I could get myself half-drowning.
I don't know how to float on water.
This is the closest thing I will ever get to breathing
without forcing my lungs to turn into a garbage truck,
or a car alarm, or anything that can get my neighbors
out of their doors. Maybe if I blink my eyes
as fast as I can, I will end up having lightning
for tears because that's how much they hurt.
There is the constant banging on my door.
On my bedside table is an empty mug
that was once made with everything close
to tasting like beautiful and patient and calm.
And I am not. I am stepping on my own leash.
my skin has purple circles, my eyes has been spending
too many hours pretending to be an Olympic pool,
when it's too little to even be a sink. Last night,
I realized, the tap water will never taste like tears,
no matter how many hours I spent bending.
The banging on my bedroom door will never stop.
I wonder how long I can keep this up until I remember
that there's always a limit to pain, and none to love. ~ Kharla M. Brillo

A slow smile curved his lips. "Lillian, I've wanted you every moment since I first held you in my arms. And it has nothing to do with your damned perfume. However" - he inhaled the scent one last time before replacing the tiny stopper - " I do know what the secret ingredient is."
Lillian stared at him with wide eyes. "You do not!"
"I do," he said smugly.
"What a know-all," Lillian exclaimed with laughing annoyance. "Perhaps you're guessing at it, but I assure you that if I can't figure out what it is, you certainly couldn't - "
"I know conclusively what it is," he informed her.
"Tell me, then."
"No. I think I'll let you discover it on your own."
"Tell me!" She pounced on him eagerly, thumping him hard on the chest with her fists. Most men would have been driven back by the solid blows, but he only laughed and held his ground. "Westcliff, if you don't tell me this instant, I'll - "
"Torture me? Sorry, that won't work. I'm too accustomed to it by now." Lifting her with shocking ease, he tossed her onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. Before she could move an inch, he was on top of her, purring and laughing as she wrestled him with all her might.
"I'll make you give in!" She hooked a leg around his and shoved hard at his left shoulder. The childhood years of fighting with her boisterous brothers had taught her a few tricks. However, Marcus countered every move easily, his body a mass of steely, flexing muscles. He was very ~ Lisa Kleypas

And sometimes I get carried away, that's all. If you weren't so...judgemental all the time-"
"Am I? I don't think I am . I try not to be. I just don't..." She stopped herself speaking, shook her head. "I know you've been through a lot, in the last few years, and I've tried to understand that, really I have, with your mum and all, but..."
"Go on," he said.
"I just don't think you're the person I used to know. You're not my friend anymore. That's all."
He could think of nothing to say to this, so they stood in silence, until Emma put her hand out, took two fingers of his hand, squeezed them in her palm.
"Maybe...maybe this is it, then," she said. "Maybe it's just over."
"Over? What's over?"
"Us. You and me. Friendship. There are things I needed to talk to you about, Dex. About Ian and me. If you're my friend I should be able to talk to you but I can't, and if I can't talk to you, well, what is the point of you? Of us?"
"'What's the point?'"
"You said yourself, people change, no use getting sentimental about it. Move on, find someone else."
"Yeah, but I didn't mean us..."
"Why not?"
"Because we're....us. We're Dex and Em. Aren't we?"
Emma shrugged. "Maybe we've grown out of each other."
He said nothing for a moment, then spoke. "So, do you think I've grown out of you, or you've grown out of me?"
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I think you think I'm....dreary. I think you think I cramp your ~ David Nicholls

I think [game music] is something that should last with the player. It's interesting because it can't just be some random music, but something that can make its way into the player's heart. In that sense, this not only applies to game music, but I feel very strongly about composing songs that will leave a lasting impressionWhat I must not forget is that it must be entertaining to those who are listening. I don't think there's much else to it, to be honest. I don't do anything too audacious, so as long as the listeners like it, or feel that it's a really great song, then I've done my job. ~ Yasunori Mitsuda

Dear friend…'

The Witcher swore quietly, looking at the sharp, angular, even runes drawn with energetic sweeps of the pen, faultlessly reflecting the author's mood. He felt once again the desire to try to bite his own backside in fury. When he was writing to the sorceress a month ago he had spent two nights in a row contemplating how best to begin. Finally, he had decided on "Dear friend." Now he had his just deserts.

'Dear friend, your unexpected letter – which I received not quite three years after we last saw each other – has given me much joy. My joy is all the greater as various rumours have been circulating about your sudden and violent death. It is a good thing that you have decided to disclaim them by writing to me; it is a good thing, too, that you are doing so so soon. From your letter it appears that you have lived a peaceful, wonderfully boring life, devoid of all sensation. These days such a life is a real privilege, dear friend, and I am happy that you have managed to achieve it.

I was touched by the sudden concern which you deigned to show as to my health, dear friend. I hasten with the news that, yes, I now feel well; the period of indisposition is behind me, I have dealt with the difficulties, the description of which I shall not bore you with. It worries and troubles me very much that the unexpected present you received from Fate brings you worries. Your supposition that this requires professional help is absolutely correct. ~ Andrzej Sapkowski

Mom used to say that the thoughts in our heads were nothing more than electrical impulses. I remember Dad and her talking about this over dinner. It frustrated Dad that the human brain can fire electrical sparks and think, but that the electricity he'd pump into an android brain would never give it independent thought. The body isn't that different from a machine. Humans and androids both run on electricity.
That lightning spark of energy I saw in the reverie.
That was my mother's last thought, an echo of electricity, something that sparked when I entered her dreamscape.
That spark is gone now. Her life is gone now. Everything that made her, her, is gone now. Faded into nothing. ~ Beth Revis

When we practice the first turning of the First Noble Truth, we recognize suffering as suffering. If we are in a difficult relationship, we recognize, "This is a difficult relationship." Our practice is to be with our suffering and take good care of it. When we practice the first turning of the Second Noble Truth, we look deeply into the nature of our suffering to see what kinds of nutriments we have been feeding it. How have we lived in the last few years, in the last few months, that has contributed to our suffering? We need to recognize and identify the nutriments we ingest and observe, "When I think like this, speak like that, listen like this, or act like that, my suffering increases." Until we begin to practice the Second Noble Truth, we tend to blame others for our unhappiness. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

When she paused, I embraced the opportunity to turn the trend of conversation by saying:
'I am afraid that I was a little rude to you last night,' but I hardly expected such a blunt reply as she made.
'Yes, you were exceedingly rude, and I hate rude men.'
'I hope you don't hate me,' I cried, laughingly.
'Oh no, not quite. You're a Londoner, you see.'
This was very severe. I confess I was hardly prepared for it, and I was tempted to say something cutting in reply, but checked myself, bowed, and merely remarked:
'Which is not my fault. Therefore pity me rather than blame me.'
'Certainly I do that,' she replied, with an amusing seriousness.
("The Doomed Man") ~ Dick Donovan

Whatever it is," I said, "the point is moot because as long as I'm on these pills, I can't make contact to ask."
Derek ... snapped, "Then you need to stop taking the pills."
Love to. If I could. But after what happened last night, they're giving me urine tests now."
Ugh. That's harsh." Simon went quiet, then snapped his fingers.
Hey, I've got an idea. It's kinda gross, but what if you take the pills, crush them and mix them with your, you know, urine."
Derek stared at him.
What?"
You did pass chem last year, didn't you?"
Simon flipped him the finger. "Okay, genius, what's your idea?"
I'll think about it. ..."

***

Here," Derek whispered, pressing an empty Mason jar into my hand. He'd pulled me aside after class and we were now standing at the base of the boy's staircase. "Take this up to your room and hide it."
It's a ... jar."
He grunted, exasperated that I was so dense I failed to see the critical importance of hiding an empty Mason jar in my room.
It's for your urine."
My what?"
He rolled his eyes, a growl-like sound sliding through his teeth as
he leaned down, closer to my ear. "Urine. Pee. Whatever. For the testing."
I lifted the jar to eye level. "I think they'll give me something
smaller."
...
You took your meds today, right?" he whispered.
I nodded.
Then use this jar to save it."
Save . . . ?"
Your urine. If you give them some of toda ~ Kelley Armstrong

One last mystery: on one of the little ponds, this morning, I saw wind riffling the first of the waterlily leaves. They haven't all emerged yet, but new circles tattoo the water, here and there, a coppery red. When the wind lifted their edges, each would reveal a little shadowy spot, a dot of black which seemed to flash on the water, and so across the whole surface of the pond there was what could only be described as the inverse of sparkling; a scintillant blackness. Shining blackly, black but rippling, lyrical: the sheen and radiance of death-in-life.
Is that my work, to point to the world and say, See how darkly it sparkles? ~ Mark Doty

This is not a loss, at any rate not for me, I don't get anything out of socializing anyway. I never say what I really think, what I really mean, but always more or less agree with whomever I am talking to at the time, pretend that what they say is of interest to me, except when I am drinking, in which case more often than not I go too far the other way, and wake up to the fear of having overstepped the mark. This has become more pronounced over the years and can last now for weeks. When I drink I also have blackouts and completely lose control of my actions, which are generally desperate and stupid, but also on occasion desperate and dangerous. That is why I no longer drink. I do not want anyone to get close to me, I do not want anyone to see me, and this is the way things have developed: no one gets close and no one sees me. This is what must have engraved itself in my face, this is what must have made it so stiff and masklike and almost impossible to associate with myself whenever I happen to catch a glimpse of it in a shop window. ~ Karl Ove Knausgaard

During the last 17 years ... I have been working at the restoration of a once exhausted hillside. Its scars are now healed over, though still visible, and this year it has provided abundant pasture, more than in any year since we have owned it. But to make it as good as it is now has taken 17 years. If I had been a millionaire or if my family had been starving, it would still have taken 17 years. It can be better than it is now, but that will take longer. For it to live fully in its own responsibility, as it did before bad use ran it down, may take hundreds of years. ~ Wendell Berry

Keisha, my love," I said in my fey-est, gayest drawl, "your bum doesn't just look big, it is big. No, I take that back. It's enormous. Planets feel inferior beside it . Lesser bums are drawn into orbit around it. Last time it went dark, everyone said, Oh, is it an eclipse? And I told them, 'No, it's Keisha's bum blotting out the sun.' I could compose odes to the size of your bum."

Jude answering Keisha's question "Does my bum look big in this?"

Merrow, JL (2013-04-09). Slam! (Kindle Locations 35-38). ~ J.L. Merrow

So what happened?"
"I don't know." Another glance to ensure his continued state of Not Looking, and then I rip off my clothes in one fast swoop. I am now officially stark naked in the room with the most beautiful boy I know. Funny,but this isn't how I imagined this moment.
No.Not funny.One hundred percent the exact opposite of funny.
"I think I maybe,possibly, vaguely remember hitting the snooze button." I jabber to cover my mortification. "Only I guess it was the off button.But I had the alarm on my phone set,too, so I don't know what happened."
Underwear,on.
"Did you turn the ringer back on last night?"
"What?" I hop into my jeans, a noise he seems to determinedly ignore.His ears are apple red.
"You went to see a film,right? Don't you set your mobile to silent at the theater?"
He's right.I'm so stupid. If I hadn't taken Meredith to A Hard Day's Night, a Beatles movie I know she loves, I would have never turned it off. We'd already be in a taxi to the airport. "The taxi!" I tug my sweater over my head and look up to find myself standing across from a mirror.
A mirror St. Clair is facing.
"It's all right," he says. "I told the driver to wait when I came up here. We'll just have to tip him a little extra." His head is still down. I don't think he saw anything.I clear my throat, and he glances up. Our eyes meet in the mirror,and he jumps. "God! I didn't...I mean,not until just now..."
"Cool.Yeah,fine." I try to shake it off ~ Stephanie Perkins

I recommend to you, in my last, an innocent piece of art: that of flattering people behind their backs, in presence of those who, to make their own court, much more than for your sake, will not fail to repeat, and even amplify, the praise to the party concerned. This is of all flattery the most pleasing, and consequently the most effectual. ~ Doug Stanhope

A true suicide is a paced, disciplined certainty. People pontificate, "Suicide is selfishness." Career churchmen like Pater go a step further and call it a cowardly assault on the living. Oafs argue this specious line for varying reasons: to evade fingers of blame, to impress one's audience with one's mental fiber, to vent anger, or just because one lacks the necessary suffering to sympathize. Cowardice is nothing to do with it - suicide takes considerable courage. Japanese have the right idea. No, what's selfish is to demand another to endure an intolerable existence, just to spare families, friends, and enemies a bit of soul-searching. The only selfishness lies in ruining strangers' days by forcing 'em to witness a grotesqueness. So I'll make a thick turban from several towels to muffle the shot and soak up the blood, and do it in the bathtub, so it shouldn't stain any carpets. Last night I left a letter under the manager's day-office door - he'll find it at eight A.M. tomorrow - informing him of the change in my existential status, so with luck an innocent chambermaid will be spared an unpleasant surprise. See, I do think of the little people ~ David Mitchell

She pulls up to the drive way
Parks the car, Gets Out, Walks up to the door,
And embraces me with an iron hold
She is a friend and hugs me the same way she used to,
Her hands sliding into their old creases along my body


I let her into the house, knowing I could never refuse
As she walks through my doors, she reminds me why she stands in my living room
She tells me that she has returned because of my actions
I didn't learn from the last time
Its my fault


I should have been better, she berates me
I should have let people in, she tells me
I should not have gotten mad, she shares with me
I should not have locked myself away, she lets me know
I silently bear all the responsibility for her return


As we start to get deep into conversation, I realize she has brought her bags
Suitcase after suitcase lets me know she is here to stay
She tells me she will run my life from now on
She will make my schedule
She will direct how I act


She has come to my doors, breached my walls,
destroyed my defenses, and announced her ownership.
Crownless in my own kingdom
I am defeated.
This old friend is called Loneliness ~ Anonymous

It is a mystery, and to tell the truth, I am intrigued by mysteries even if this is to be my last week of enjoying them. I would welcome some glimmer of understanding but, failing that, working on the puzzle will suffice. ~ Dan Simmons

Rachel looked uncomfortable. "My father is rarely around," she said, "but that doesn't mean he doesn't like to keep an eye on me. Last year, he put this parental spy software on all the home computers so he could monitor what I was doing." Ema said, "Yuck." "I know, right?" Ema shook her head and said, "Parents." I could see a softening between the two. It wasn't much. Softening might be too strong a word. Thawing might be more accurate. But it was there. "But the thing is, ~ Harlan Coben

What's glamorous is being a good father, a good husband, a good fucking dog owner. That's what I care about today. That's what matters. I will devote everything to that. And I will succeed. Because I cannot fall down again. I will not fall down again. I mean, I don't have to fall. None of us have to fall. We don't all fall down. We don't. So I'm over this drug shit. It's done. And this is my last recovery memoir ever. ~ Nic Sheff

I just told Max flatly, "I had laser surgery last week to lighten my birthmark," as if it was no big deal.
Oh yeah?" he said. Unexpectedly, Max swiveled around, yanked his pants down.
The last thing I thought I had wanted to see tonight was Merc walking out the door. I was wrong. It was this stranger's rear end. "Please don't tell me this is one of those stripping telegrams? ~ Justina Chen