Okay, maybe I'm not such a shitty writer. But I can't pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations.
He wasn't perfect or anything. He wasn;t your fairytale prince charming or whatever. He tried to be like that sometimes,but i liked him best when that stuff fell away.
Some people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them," I said. "Right, of course. But you keep the promise anyway. That's what love is. Love is keeping the promise anyway.
Those big things are hard to do under the best of circumstances. Surely there are smaller things he can do, such as with the tax code.
It's hard to believe in coincidence, but it's even harder to believe in anything else.
But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail
As far as all of our identities are dependent on how other people imagine us we are all making ourselves and each other up all the time
But you know what they say about Gutshot: the population never goes up and never goes down, because every time a woman gets pregnant, a man leaves town.
I'd rather wonder than get answers I couldn't live with.
When people have to choose between civilization and warm genitals, they choose warm genitals
Youth is counted sweetest by those who are no longer young.
Love is always a miracle, everywhere,every time. But for us, it's a little different. I don't want to say it's more miraculous,...It is though.
Facts, even false ones, cannot be copyrighted.
It was psychological trick called empathic listening. You say what the person is feeling so they feel understood.
At some point, I realized I was Kaitlyning the encounter, so I decided to text Kaitlyn and ask for some advice.
I never really understood that massive collaboration involving hundreds of people is what makes movies possible, and it's also why I would agree that curiosity is not the most important human trait; the urge to collaborate is. Heck . . . only we have the ability to cooperate to make like online comm
You can't not like 'The Great Gatsby.' It's got the best sentences in, like, ever. John G
We live in a universe devoted to the creation, and eradication, of awareness. Augustus Waters did not die after a lengthy battle with cancer. He died after a lengthy battle with human consciousness, a victim - as you will be - of the universe's need to make and unmake all that is possible.
How do you just stop being terrified of getting left behind and ending up by yourself forever and not meaning anything to the world?
The preciousness of the moment, which should make it easier to talk, makes it harder.
It was nice - in the dark and the quiet... and her eyes looking back, like there was something in me worth seeing.
I hadnâ€™t been in proper school in three years. My parents were my two best friends. My third best friend was an author who did not know I existed.
Any evaluation of Robertson would be fairly mixed. If you're in the White House, you wouldn't want Robertson on his TV program attacking you. On the other hand, you probably wouldn't want to be closely aligned with him.
There are at least two distinct meanings of 'hot': there is the, like, normal human definition which is that 'this individual seems suitable for mating'. And then there's the weird, culturally constructed definition of 'hot' which means, 'that individual is malnourished and has probably had plastic
I don't think ministering requires a religious context. The number one thing is that every parent is extremely worried about their kid. Of course, when a chaplain shows up, that can exacerbate this worry rather than calm it.
Ergo: girls should always make the first move, because (a) they are, on the whole, less likely to be rejected than guys, (b) that way, girls will never get kissed unless they want to be kissed.
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're professional worriers. You're constantly imagining things that could go wrong and then writing about them.
Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. Thatâ€™s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.
What's that?" "The laundry basket?" "No, next to it." "I don't see anything next to it." "It's my last shred of dignity. It's very small.