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Posts Tagged ‘we’

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Listen Loretta, this ain’t no Disney movie with lightning bugs drawing hearts on hot August nights and frogs lining up on logs to sing lullabies of love in your ears. You ain’t no princess and I’m sure the hell no prince. This is life – real life! We’ll work hard all day, we’ll fight, we’ll argue. But under it all we’ll love. Not for one or two hours of animation, but twenty-four hours of real 3D honest-to-goodness life. I can’t say what’s coming up in the script, no one can, but I promise I’ll be there with you even when the credits roll and the last frame comes up saying “THE END”. Be my leading Lady. Marry me Loretta.


— Author unknown

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How much can we ever know about the love and pain in another heart? How much can we hope to understand those who have suffered deeper anguish, greater deprivation, and more crushing disappointments than we ourselves have known?

―Orhan Pamuk, Snow

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I wanna pick you up, I don’t care what time
I wanna drive real fast to some place in town;
I wanna stress you out;
I wanna make things hard;
I wanna take your hand;
I wanna leave this bar;
I wanna wake you up on a driving train
that led it’s tracks down inside my brain

I wanna hear your band;
I wanna give it advice;
I wanna meet your girlfriend, she sounds nice;
I wanna take you home;
I wanna feel my age;
I wanna freak you out on a different stage;
I wanna show my teeth;
I wanna keep you fed;
I wanna get you drunk and let it go to your head

so I guess this means we can’t be friends

I wanna be unique;
I wanna be your kind;
I wanna make you hate me then change your mind;
I wanna wear a skirt;
I wanna make mistakes;
I wanna kill you first then take your name;
I wanna tear you apart;
I wanna make your bed;
I wanna break your heart;
I wanna break your head

so I guess this means we can’t be friends

Lorene Scafaria

unique

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“I think the world will end in black-and-white, like an old movie. Maybe as long as we have colors we can keep going.”

Neil Gaiman, Pages from a Journal Found in a Shoebox Left in a Greyhound Bus Somewhere Between Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Louisville, Kentucky

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….and maybe we’ll never know most of them. But even if we don’t have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

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We`ll never be the same...

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I love you

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Dear Mr. Waters,

I am in receipt of your electronic mail dated the 14th of April and duly impressed by the Shakespearean complexity of your tragedy. Everyone in this tale has a rock-solid hamartia: hers, that she is so sick; yours, that you are so well. Were she better or you sicker, then the stars would not be so terribly crossed, but it is the nature of stars to cross, and never was Shakespeare more wrong than when he had Cassius note, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / but in ourselves.” Easy enough to say when you’re a Roman nobleman (or Shakespeare!), but there is no shortage of fault to be found amid our stars.

While we’re on the topic of old Will’s insufficiencies, your writing about young Hazel reminds me of the Bard’s Fifty-fifth sonnet, which of course begins, “Not a marble, nor the gilded monuments  / of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; / nut you shall shine more bright in these contents / Than unswept stone, besmear’d with sluttish time.” (Off topic, but: What a slut time is. She screws everybody.) It’s a fine poem but a deceitful one: We do indeed remember Shakespeare’s powerful rhyme, but what do we remember about the person it commemorates? Nothing. We’re pretty sure he was male; everything else is guesswork. Shakespeare told us precious little of the man whom he entombed in his linguistic sarcophagus. (Witness also that when we talk about literature, we do so in the present tense. We we speak of the dead, we are not so kind.) You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect. (Full disclosure: I am not the first to make this observation. cf, the MacLeish poem “Not Marble, Nor the gilded Monuments,” which contains the heroic line “I shall say you will die and none will remember you.”)

I digress, but here’s the rub: The dead are visable only in the terrible lidless eye of memory. The living, thank heaven, retain the avility to surprise and disappoint. Your Hazel is alive, Waters, and you mustn’t impose your will upon anoth’s decision, particularly a decision arrived at thoughtfully. She wishes to spare you pain, and you should let her. You may not find young Hazel’s logic persuasive, but I trod through this vale of tears longer than you, and from where I’m sitting, she’s not the lunatic.

Yours truly,

Peter Van Houten

❥ The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

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“I run for I don’t know how long. Hours, maybe, or days. Alex told me to run. So I run. You have to understand. I am no one special. I am just a single girl. I am five feet two inches tall and I am in-between in every way. But I have a secret. You can build walls all the way to the sky and I will find a way to fly above them. You can try to pin me down with a hundred thousand arms, but I will find a way to resist. And there are many of us out there, more than you think. People who refuse to stop believing. People who refuse to come to earth. People who love in a world without walls, people who love into hate, into refusal, against hope, and without fear. I love you. Remember. They cannot take it.
― Lauren Oliver, Delirium

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