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[15 Aug 2006|02:23am]
we all want to leave our signature. Our lasting effect. Your life after death. We all want to explain ourselves. Nobody wants to be forgotten

chuck palaniuk, diary.

[15 Aug 2006|02:21am]
in increments both measurable and not, our childhood is stolen from us – not always in one momentous event but often in a series of small robberies, which add up to the same loss.

john irving, until i find you.

[17 Jul 2006|04:13pm]
Watching the news about Diallo, my eight year-old cousin, Jake,
asks why don't they build black people with bulletproof skin?
I tell Jake there's another planet, where humans change colors like mood rings.
You wake up Scottish, and fall asleep Chinese; enter a theatre
Persian, and exit Puerto Rican. And Earth
is a junkyard planet, where they send all the broken humans
who are stuck in one color.

Jeffrey McDaniel ; the splinter factory

[17 Jul 2006|04:08pm]
“There are born suicides and born non-suicides. The former don’t necessarily kill themselves, the latter sometimes do. I belong to the first category, you to the second.”

“I will never kill myself,” Matthew said bluntly. “I believe, truly believe, that if you kill yourself you go to Hell.”

“It’s because you’re already in Hell that you kill yourself,” said Isabelle.

“That’s witty,” replied Matthew, “but Jesus was wittier. Let me put it this way. I’ll never kill myself because I love you.”

“You say that but you may not always love me.”

“I will always love you.”

“I wonder. If amour didn’t rhyme with toujours, maybe we’d never have thought of equating love with eternity.”

The Dreamers by Gilbert Adair

[20 Jun 2006|04:01am]
"I heard a nice little story the other day," Morrie says. He closes his eyes for a moment and I wait.
"Okay. The story is about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He's enjoying the wind and the fresh air-until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore.
" 'My God, this is terrible,' the little wave says. 'Look what's going to happen to me!'
"Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, 'Why do you look so sad?' "The first wave says, 'You don't understand! We're all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?' " The second wave says, 'No you  dont't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean.' "
I smile. Martie closes his eyes again.
"Part of the ocean," he says, "part of the ocean." I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.

today was my first down day of summer. i shut off my phone, shut down the computer, and spent one hour biking, eight hours lost in books, and two tinkering on the piano. suddenly i looked at the clock and it was nine o'clock.

these are moments i try to put into words when people ask me how i can stand to sit around reading. its more than a story. it is an escape. for eight-or-so hours today nothing mattered except that second after second in which i existed. that is good enough.

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