The Last Doll Standing

Monday, August 26, 2013

You've hung the mermaid from the streetlight by her hair

"Her mask was a weave of tattered shreds torn from all the beautiful parts of herself."

"People carry their secrets in hidden places, not on their faces. They carry suffering on their faces.

Also bitterness if there’s room.”

“When you put so much effort in to forget someone, the effort itself becomes a memory.

Then you have to forget the forgetting, and that too is memorable.”

“Come on, just say, "I do." It comes from the verb "to do." That's all you need for now.

Then we'll move you on to "I did.”

“The Buddhists are right. Guilty men are not sentenced to death, they are sentenced to life.”

"Tried closing myself off to her but she has sneakily gone about understanding me by finding passages I've underlined in books."

"I don't know what she means. She's mad. I'm gobsmacked when I think about her secret minions.

What dissent going on in that woman! Total fucking pandemonium!"

"I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river; to me you're everything that exists; the reality of everything."

"He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete."

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart,

and all they can do is stare blankly.”

“Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat.”

“Youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness.”

“He must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream. He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass. A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about...like that ashen, fantastic figure gliding toward him through the amorphous trees.”