Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants.
The way it stops and starts.
(Edgar Allan Poe)
They wore blouses with buttons down the front that suggested the possibilities of the word undone. These women could be undone; or not. They seemed to be able to choose.
(Margaret Atwood)
No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality.
(Shirley Jackson)
All human beings search for either reasons to be good, or excuses to be bad.
(Chuck Palahniuk)
Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again. And so with men: as one generation comes to life, another dies away.
(Homer)
He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.
(Stephen King)
She’s the sort of woman who lives for others—you can tell the others by their hunted expression.
(C.S Lewis)
Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.
(Homer)
He wanted all to lie in an ecstasy of peace; I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. I said his heaven would be only half alive; and he said mine would be drunk: I said I should fall asleep in his; and he said he could not breathe in mine.
(Emily Bronte)
Where is it I’ve read that someone condemned to death says or thinks, an hour before his death, that if he had to live on some high rock, on such a narrow ledge that he’d only room to stand, and the ocean, everlasting darkness, everlasting solitude, everlasting tempest around him, if he had to remain standing on a square yard of space all his life, a thousand years, eternity, it were better to live so than to die at once! Only to live, to live and live! Life, whatever it may be!
(Raskolnikov)
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