“I like drinking coffee alone, and reading alone. I like riding the bus alone, and walking home alone. It gives me time to think, and set my mind free. I like eating alone, and listening to music alone. But when I see a mother with her child, a girl with her lover, or a friend laughing with their best friend, I realize that even though I like being alone, I don’t fancy being lonely. The sky is beautiful, but the people are sad. I just need someone who won’t run away.”

“One of the deepest feminine pleasures is when a man stands full, present and unreactive in the midst of his woman's emotional storms. When he stays present with her, and loves her through the layers of wildness and closure, then she feels his trustability, and she can relax. ”

—David Deida

Dad’s shoulders were the highest place on earth and mum was your hero, Your worst enemies were your siblings. Race issues were about who ran the fastest. War was only a card game. And the only drug you knew was cough medicine. The most pain you felt was when you skinned your knees, and goodbyes only meant until tomorrow. And we couldn’t wait to grow up…

“Darkness scares us. We yearn for the comfort of light as it provides shape and form allowing us to recognize, to define what's before us. But what is it we're afraid of, really? Not the darkness itself, but the truth we know hides within.”

—Emily Thorne, Revenge

“There is a reason I said I'd be happy alone. It wasnt because I thought I would be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It's easier to be alone. Because what if you learn that you need love? And then you don't have it. What if you like it? And lean on it? What if you shape your life around it? And then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It's like dying. The only difference is, death ends. This? It could go on forever . . .”

“When I bestride him, I soar, I am a Hawk: he trots in the air; the earth swings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.”

—William Shakespeare
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