When people have to choose between civilization and warm genitals, they choose warm genitals
He responded a few minutes later. Okay. I wrote back. Okay. He responded: Oh, my God, stop flirting with me!
You are a side effect," Van Houten continued, "of an evolutionary process that cares little for individual lives. You are a failed experiment in mutation.
Could the two people who are making out please be quiet?" the Colonel asked loudly from his sleeping bag. "Those of us who are not making out are drunk and tired.
One of the pitfalls of writing about illness is that it is very easy to imagine people with cancer as either these wise, beyond-their-years creatures or else these sad-eyed, tragic people. And the truth is people living with cancer are very much like people who are not living with cancer.
We gotta do something about this frigging swing set,' he said. 'I'm telling you, it's ninety percent of the problem.
He missed her like crazycakes.
I just want to do something that matters. Or be something that matters. I just want to matter.
And I will forget her, yes. That which came together will fall apart slowly, but she will forgive my forgetting, just as I forgive her for forgetting me and the Colonel and nothing but herself and her mom in those last moments as she spent as a person.
I told myself â€“ as Iâ€™ve told myself before â€“ that the body shuts down when the pain gets too bad, that consciousness is temporary, that this will pass. But just like always, I didnâ€™t slip away. I was left on the shore with the waves washing over me, unable to drown.
The prospect of a world that contains neither humans nor Z's is not so terrifying. Nature will take its world back. Animals will frolic and fight. There will be no lord of the manor, which is not such a bad thing, because it seems to me that people have done a pretty poor job of guiding the biospher
And the moral of the story is that you don't remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened. And the second moral of the story, if a story can have multiple morals, is that Dumpers are not inherently worse than Dumpees - breaking up isn't something that gets done to you; it's someth
Nothing's wrong. Everything's right. Things couldn't be righter. Things could be less tired. They could be less busy. They could be less caffeinated. But they couldn't be righter.
Nothing really mattered that much, not the good things and not the bad ones. We were in the business of mutual amusement, and we were reasonably prosperous.
Scared isn't a good excuse. Scared is the excuse everyone has always used.
Everything that comes together falls apart.
Imagining isn't perfect. You can't get all the way inside someone else...But imagining being someone else, or the world being something else, is the only way in. It is the machine that kills fascists.
As long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story.
My thoughts are starts I can't fathom into constellations.
I always felt like you had to be important to have enemies.
One of the things I like about making stuff in the age of the Internet, is that people make stuff in response to it. You can see people respond to your work visually or musically or with writing.
I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep... Just sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So
When was the last good kiss you had?
Lonley, Vaguely pedophilic swing set seeks the butts of children.
Lies are attempts to hide the truth by willfully denying facts. Fiction, on the other hand, is an attempt to reveal the truth by ignoring facts.
Also, it was a bit hopeless," he said. "A bit defeatist." "If by defeatist you mean honest, then I agree." "I don't think defeatism is honest, " Dad answered. "I refuse to accept that.
The snow may be falling in the winter of my discontent, but at least I've got sarcastic company.
Last words are always harder to remember when no one knows that someone's about to die.
I do not say goodbye. I believe that's one of the bullshitiest words ever invented. It's not like you're given the choice to say bad-bye, or awful-bye, or couldn't-care-less-about-you-bye. Everytime you leave, it's supposed to be a good one.
I didn't even know what the feeling was, really, just that there was a lot of it.