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It is only when you open your veins and bleed onto the page a little that you establish contact with your reader. If you do not believe in the characters or the story you are doing at that moment with all your mind, strength, and will, if you don't feel joy and excitement while writing it, then you're wasting good white paper, even if it sells, because there are other ways in which a writer can bring in the rent money besides writing bad or phony stories. ↗
В един момент щеше да му се наложи да признае пред света какъв е. Да признае и пред себе си, че иска да каже нещо на хората и иска те да го чуят. Дълго време неговата мантра беше „не ми пука“. Тази фраза го характеризираше като личност, позволяваше му да работи в кафене „Бразилия“ срещу минимално заплащане, да излиза с момчета, в които не беше влюбен, и да прахосва вечерите си на места като къщата на Бето. В много отношения щеше да му е по-лесно да продължи да живее както досега, да се разпилява всяка вечер в алко- холна мъгла и наркотици, да прекарва нощите си на поля- ните пред чуждите къщи, да пише просто за удоволствие, за запълване на времето, да казва на хората, че е Ричард Хардинг, завършил университет, но без работа и без перс- пектива. Естествено, не можеше да я кара така цял живот, но можеше да продължи поне през следващите няколко години. Междувременно щеше да се наслаждава на утехата от „не ми пука“ и на естетическата свобода, присъща за живота, изпълнен с невъздържаност от всякакъв род. ↗
An angel for some, a demon for some, for me, it's heart of the one. Never want to hurt, keep many secrets beneath the blood. sob in the dark, but, people thinks, it's beat of the heart. No one thought, no one observe, but, it supplies tears as blood. One day someone came, took it out from dark, she kissed it, loved it, played with it, put it with her heart, and makes it her life part. Daily she played, daily she fought, But, never she threw it out. one day, an unknown came, who kissed her, loved her, and used to play with her. He took my out my heart from her, and threw it on the street, then there is nothing more than weep. An angel for some, a demon for some, for me, it's heart of the one. Never want to hurt, keep many secrets beneath the blood. Sob in the dark, but, people thinks, it's beat of the heart. No one thought, no one observe, but, it supplies tears as blood. ↗
#hurt-feelings #hurt-love #love #love-at-first-sight #love-hurts
The Thing Is to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you've held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, your throat filled with the slit of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs; when grief weights you like your own flesh only more of it, an obesity of grief, you think , how can a body withstand this? Then you hold like life a face between your palms, a plain face, no charming smile, no violet eyes, and you say, yes, I will take you I will love you, again ↗
I still don’t understand why some people think they mean nothing to anyone; while a simple smile of them gives unlimited reason for others to live. ↗
There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root, and it may be that he who bestows the largest amount of time and money on the needy is doing the most by his mode of life to produce that misery which he strives in vain to relieve. ↗
