"In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside? It should bloody well show."
Janet Fitch (White Oleander)
Nothing lasts forever. Or so they say. I don’t trust they. They always lie. Because they can. Because they like it. But most of all, because they have a reason to. They always lie because they have a reason to lie, even if they say they don’t know why they lied. They know why. They are just lying again. So I don’t trust they. They lie. So a lot of things might last forever for as far as I know.
I’m only pretty when i’m happy and you only want to listen to me when you’re tired of hearing everyone else.
"It’s not that he was ashamed, or even that he thought he was doing something wrong, because he knew that what he was doing was right, more right than anything he saw anyone do, and he knew that doing right often means feeling wrong, and if you find yourself feeling wrong, you’re probably doing right. But he also knew that there is an inflationary aspect to love, and that should his mother, or Rose, or any of those who loved him find out about each other, they would not be able to help but feel of lesser value. He knew that I love you also means I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else. He knew that it is, by love’s definition, impossible to love two people."