Life without love is simply an exercise in monotony.
When attraction and disdain converge, beware the consequences.
Falling in love means laughing in Death's face.
Our little personal rules- would you dare challenge them?
The loss of love is a cause for mourning, yet it also offers a
promise of rebirth.
We move on, because there's nothing else to do.
Does a book change to suit the reader, or does a reader change
to suit the Book?
Death makes life lovable and love livable.
Your absence gives breath to my dreams like your presence
never could.
One ending just leads to another.
We survive them all but one.

Time's running out. Why are we lingering? Procrastination shouldn't be a way of life. I remember that night, exchanging glances from the corners of an unfamiliar room, a drunken conversation in a corridor, then a seemingly endless bus drive. Don't you sometimes wish life had a replay button?

Thinking of you takes me further into the past than you can imagine. Innocence has been forsaken, but love always transforms us into the children we never truly ceased to be. By love, of course, I only mean this mixture of hope, attraction and agony underlying the very first accidental encounters of two utterly dissimilar individuals, who turn out to be astonishingly alike.

A metamorphosis occurs behind the scenes; desire is only the tip of the iceberg. What am I saying? there is no why beneath the imperatives of separation; it was over before it began; still, there was no resolution, no culmination of events leading to some form of conclusion, no sense of closure to throw us naked and cleansed into the future's embrace.

As for me, I'm happier here; I don't approve of finales, anyhow.

It only takes a moment for your attention to drift away. From all that brings you down, all that keeps you tied to the mast of obsession and apathy. I must admit I tend to be attracted to the wrong men. But wrongness can take up a multiplicity of features, and you never know what's waiting for you after the next turn.

A million ways to be hurt, let down or betrayed. A million methods to excite, inspire and tear you to pieces. Yet we still find a place for hope- there lies the beauty of it all. Praise the futility of happiness, the mindlessness of joy, the insistence of optimism to show up when it's least expected. What is human nature, if not a hymn to antithesis?

Fulfillment always lies just a breath away. Stuck behind the barriers of an insecure ego, she dreamed of emerald skies. Her array of idols took turns in throwing stones at the limits of her abilities. The mirror had been shattered; her vision was stained; yesterday had been sacrificed in the name of inhuman progress.

Memories of warmth, the promise of relief, kisses of betrayal. Familiar stranger I once thought I knew, you're drifting away, your image is fading, and don't you know I miss even the pain you caused me. Open your eyes, the whole world lies behind a glass window; see but don't touch, touch but don't feel, feel but don't experience. Where will it lead us, this sad pursuit of indifference?

From John Irving's The Cider House Rules:

...And the trembling mice beneath the floor of the cider house stopped in their tracks between the cider house walls to listen to the lovers. The mice knew there was the owl to worry about, and the fox. But what animal was this whose sound was petrifying them? The owl does not hoot when it hunts, and the fox does not bark when it pounces. But what is this new animal? wondered the cider house mice- what new beast has charged and disturbed the air?
And is it safe?

Human existence is composed of single, mostly unrelated and seemingly infinite moments that, alas, never last longer than a few heartbeats. The people we share them with are merely voices in the night. What is more devastating, violence or silence? Is death truly scarier than love?

Don't misunderstand me, I am not a pessimist; I never was; I am infatuated with this life. Wherever I go, I do what I know best, which is to create practically hopeless and potentially threatening emotionally charged situations. But this journey began thanks to a ghost, and I vow not to let other apparitions haunt it.

Consider this proposition: If god existed, it would probably be less like an old man and more like an all-seeing, all-knowing search engine. How about some digital blasphemy?

Listen to the music; let it wrap your soul in cellophane.
Green blue green blue green blue violet.
Smell the colours of sound as they fill your eyes with warmth.
The denial of weakness is not a manifestation of strength.
To simply survive is to hide under the carpet.
Freedom reflects desire like our eyes seek to reflect mortality.

If only we could entrap the rarest pain giving breath to the seductive nightmares of poetry. Admit it: All hope is oblivion, ignorance is the only path to bliss. Cease your struggle against death and you might understand that nothing but sorrow lies in the heart of pure Beauty.