#heat

I've loved you for as long as I can remember, and I'm going to love you for the rest of my life. ↗

— P.C. Cast

#life

Life is a theatre set in which there are but few practicable entrances. ↗

— Victor Hugo

#life

He'd lost the only part of his life that made it worth living because of a couple random fucks. How ridiculous. ↗

— Santino Hassell

#breakup #cheating #hsin #itcos #life

They feel life is for the taking, and that everyone deserves happiness no matter what the cost. I must remember these tricks if I ever decide to have my soul surgically removed. ↗

— Suzanne Finnamore

#cheating #deception #divorce #infidelity #marriage

I'm really very sorry for you all, but it's an unjust world, and virtue is triumphant only in theatrical performances. ↗

— W.S. Gilbert

#injustice #justice #life #reality #theater

Sin in the theater, I can observe now, is comparable to education in a university: it is there for those who wish to take advantage of it, but fewer do than you might suspect. ↗

— Billie Burke

#education

I long for the simplicity of theatre. I want lessons learned, comeuppances delivered, people sorted out, all before your bladder gets distractingly full. That's what I want. What I know is what we all know, whether we'll admit it or not: every attempt to impose the roundness of a well-made play on reality produces a disaster. Life just isn't so, nor will it be made so. ↗

— John M. Ford

#simplicity #theatre #life

I just know that I don't want cheating. I refuse. I deepened myself but I don't believe in myself because my thought is invented. ↗

— Clarice Lispector

#life #philosophy-of-life #thought #thoughts-on-life #life

If heathen prayers were indeed the best of all, then mine should count big time. ↗

— Will Schwalbe

#life

At 6:15 she was standing on her front porch watering gardenias and watching another line of thunderstorms split and go around her. The same thing happened almost every day. Some days they came so close all she could smell was the rain. The wind whipped up dust from the fields until it drove like buckshot into the shuddering mesquites, and Clara Nell started to pray. 'Jesus,' she whispered. 'Jesus, Jesus....' But the only thing that came out of the sky was her topsoil. Every day the wind took a little more, and it hadn't rained in almost a year. ↗

— Andrew Geyer

#drought #emotional-pain #farming #heat #rural-life