Tag Archives: writing

Just a puppet on a lonely string. Oh who would ever want to be king? Coldplay

 

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“Mom,” said Peter, “nobody thinks you’re a lackwit, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Lackwit? In what musty drawer of some dead English professor’s dust-covered desk did you find that word? I assure you that never in my worst nightmares did I ever suppose that I was a lackwit.”

― Orson Scott Card, Shadow Puppets

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When suffering knocks at your door and you say there is no seat for him, he tells you not to worry because he has brought his own stool.”

― Chinua Achebe

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“I’m lonely. And I’m lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems catastrophic.”

― Augusten Burroughs, Dry

The sorrow which has no vent in tears may make other organs weep.

~Henry Maudsley

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“When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.”
― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can’t Avoid

 

It is difficult to live without opium after having known it because it is difficult, after knowing opium, to take earth seriously. And unless one is a saint, it is difficult to live without taking earth seriously.

… Jean Cocteau

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“Any way I slice reality it comes out poorly, and I feel an urge to not exist, something I have never felt before; and now here it comes with conviction, almost panic. I mentally bless and exonerate anyone who has kicked a chair out from beneath her or swallowed opium in large chunks. My mind has met their environment, here in the void. I understand perfectly.”

― Suzanne Finnamore, Split: A Memoir of Divorce

Goomblegubbon with two strong chicks happened by. Dinewan laughed and laughed at poor Goomblegubbon “A bird’s strength lies not in his ability to use his wings Silly Goomblegubbon, strength is in your offsprings.”

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I finished off me schooner and walked right out the door.
I’d watched a strong man cry and couldn’t stand it anymore.
But still the memory lingers through the hubub and the beers.
Those famous words of shorty’s that re-echoed in my ears.

‘I hope your chooks turn into emus,
And peck your dunny down.
Peck your dunny down.
Really go to town.
I hope your chooks turn into emus.
Yes, I do, I really do.
And when they’ve pecked your dunny down,
I hope they peck on,
Hope they peck on,
Hope they peck on you.’

Satan’s Sibling

Love is like a balloon.If you put too much pressure on it,it will burst,and if you leave it standing or unused it will eventually deflate.

― Ammaarah

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“After us they’ll fly in hot air balloons, coat styles will change, perhaps they’ll discover a sixth sense and cultivate it, but life will remain the same, a hard life full of secrets, but happy. And a thousand years from now man will still be sighing, “Oh! Life is so hard!” and will still, like now, be afraid of death and not want to die.”

― Anton Chekhov, Three Sisters: A Translation Of The Play By Anton Chekhov

Fix reason firmly in her seat, and call to her tribunal every fact, every opinion.

THOMAS JEFFERSON, letter to Peter Carr, Aug. 10, 1787

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“All we have to do is understand that we’re all here for a reason and to commit ourselves to that. Then we can laugh at our sufferings, large and small and walk fearlessly, aware that each step has meaning”

― Paulo Coelho, The Witch Of Portobello

Take your life in your own hands, and what happens? A terrible thing: no one to blame.

Erica Jong

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“Life can be very terrible,” he said. “One needs much courage.”
“To kill oneself? yes, I suppose one does.”
“Also to live,” said Poirot, “one needs courage.”

― Agatha Christie, Death in the Clouds

Life obliges me to do something, so I paint.”

-Rene Magritte

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“Sometimes paper is only paper,” my mother says. “Words are just words. Ways to capture the real thing. Don’t be afraid to remember that.”

I know what she means. Writing, painting, singing-it cannot stop everything. Cannot halt death in its tracks. But perhaps it can make the pause between death’s footsteps sound and look and feel beautiful, can make the space of waiting a place where you can linger without as much fear. For we are all walking each other to our deaths, and the journey there between footsteps makes up our lives.”

― Ally Condie, Reached