Mad World

She is beautiful, but with a beauty different from the kind our eyes are used to. Her skin, which has no seashell pink in it, is the color of wheat richly kissed by the sun. Her eyes have a warm sweetness; her cheeks are finely drawn. Her accent is sweet, with a touch of sad resignation, as though she always held a thick teardrop in the depth of her throat.

“I was a star spilled in your arms.”

I’ll go to bed, forget myself in sleep.

Rachel Weisz’s mind is too powerful

…the heart slips backward, remembering, remembering.

I decided, enough pain….I was not the woman who breaks into pieces under the blows of abandonment and absence, who goes mad, who dies. Only a few fragments had splintered off, for the rest I was well. I was whole, whole I would remain. To those who hurt me, I react giving back in kind. I am the queen of spades, I am the wasp that stings, I am the dark serpent. I am the invulnerable animal who passes through fire and is not burned.

If you’ve been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you- you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness.

No one ever seems to love the actual people as much as they love the idea of them.