I had a place for you, a place right next to me a place I sheltered with my heart. Your eyes, they had a steady hold on mine. My lips dried. My voice died. My head was so far gone. I twisted my fascination into your smile, I can't explain the way it hurt. An ache so violent and sudden. You were mine to hold, to kiss, to touch but you looked so good it hurt too much The panes of sunlight dripped across your face and the smiling became laughing, the holding became clenching, and the wanting became needing.... Read more »
Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this... Read more »
Every time you say yes to something you don’t want to do, this will happen: you will resent people, you will do a bad job, you will have less energy for the things you were doing a good job on, you will make less money, and yet another small percentage of your life will be used up, burned up, a smoke signal to the future saying, “I did it again.
It's dark out, Jack, the stations out there don't identify themselves, we're in it raw-blind like burned rats, it's running out all around us, the footprints of the beast, one nobody has any notion of. The white and vacant eyes of something above there, something that doesn't know we exist. I smell heartbreak up there, Jack, a heartbreak at the center of things, and in which we don't figure at all.
We proceeded systematically, village by village and we destroyed the houses, filled up the wells, blew down the towers, cut down the shady trees, burned the crops and broke the reservoirs in punitive devastation.
Willow: (on her Halloween costume): I'm Joan of Arc. I figured we had a lot in common, seeing as how I was almost burned at the stake. And plus she had that close relationship with God. " Xander: [to Oz] And you are...? [Oz shows a name tag that says 'GOD'] Xander: Of course. Wish I'd thought of that before I put down my deposit. I could've been God. Oz: Blasphemer.
How often had that hydrant even been opened? Did you jet water through a car window, what, twice at best? Summer burned just a few afternoons long, in the end. As for flying, Dose never even glanced at the sky. Flying was a summer within a summer, a whim. So why think of it at all?