Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they're also what tear you apart.
Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.
Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.
I dream. Sometimes I think that's the only right thing to do.
It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.
If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.
But I didn't understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover. That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair.
Whatever it is you're seeking won't come in the form you're expecting.
Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.
No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.
"Letters are just pieces of paper," I said. "Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish."
"For a while" is a phrase whose length can't be measured. At least by the person who's waiting.
Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.
Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.
I dream. Sometimes I think that's the only right thing to do.
It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.
If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.
But I didn't understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover. That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair.
Whatever it is you're seeking won't come in the form you're expecting.
Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.
No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.
"Letters are just pieces of paper," I said. "Burn them, and what stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish."
"For a while" is a phrase whose length can't be measured. At least by the person who's waiting.

