quotes 🌼

The cruelest walls are made of glass. I had the urge to break through the pane and leap out the window.

I came to know, in those afternoons, that madness can sometimes lead to discovery, that the mind, fractured and short-wired, is not entirely wrong.

Über das Schöne kann ich mich nicht richtig freuen, weil ich immer an die Dornen denke, und wenn ich bei den Dornen bin, dann bleibt nur die Sehnsucht nach dem Schönen.

In diesen Momenten der Unfreiheit erfährt man gleichzeitig die Freiheit, Neues denken zu können, auch neuen Unsinn denken zu dürfen.

I don't feel forced, and I know I have the power to say no, but that isn't the same as being in charge.

He says that by believing our lives have endless possibilities, we stave off the horrifying truth that to live is merely to move forward through time while an internal clock counts down to a final, fatal moment.

What if it came and didn't let go, a sorrow that had come to stay, and did to me what longing for him had done on those nights when it seemed there was something so essential missing from my life it might as well have been missing from my body, so losing him now would be like losing a hand you could spot in every picture of yourself around the house, but without which you couldn't possibly be you again. You lose it, as you always knew you would, and were even prepared to; but you can't bring yourself to live with the loss. And hoping not to think of it, like praying not to dream of it, hurts just the same.

Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we'd want to be forgotten is not better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste!

It will come. At least I hope it does. And when you least expect it. Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot.

Time makes us sentimental. Perhaps, in the end, it is because of time that we suffer.

We spoke about everything but. But we're always known, and not saying anything now confirmed it all the more. We had found the stars, you and I. And this is given once only.

He came. He left. Nothing else had changed. I had not changed. The world hadn't changed. Yet nothing would be the same. All that remains is dreammaking and strange remembrance.

Would I be able to live without his hand on my tummy or around my hips? Without kissing and licking a wound on his hip that would take weeks to heal, but away from me now? Whom else would I ever be able to call by my name?

"The whole thing had a mysteriously surreal quality kept intentionally opaque by both of us - not because we wanted to allow events to catch us unprepared so that we might blame circumstances and not ourselves, but because by not planning to keep things alive, we were avoiding the prospect that they might ever die."

I squirreled away small things so that in the lean days ahead glimmers from the past might bring back the warmth. I began, reluctantly, to steal from the present to pay off debts I knew I'd incur in the future.

I suddenly realized that we were on borrowed time, that time is always borrowed, and that lending agency exacts its premium precisely when we are least prepared to pay and need to borrow more.

Perhaps we were friends first and lovers second.