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Maybe it's all utterly meaningless. Maybe it's all unutterably meaningful. If you want to know which, pay attention to what it means to be truly human in a world that half the time we're in love with and half the time scares the hell out of us. Any fiction that helps us pay attention to that is religious fiction. The unexpected sound of your name on somebody's lips. The good dream. The strange coincidence. The moment that brings tears to your eyes. The person who brings life to your life. Even the smallest events hold the greatest clues. ↗
Yeah – Sure I remember Matter of fact it was just last September She still calls it the fall to remember Little Heather when it all came together You remember the first time you met her? She cried when it rained and blamed the weather But inside she strained with suicide letters The kind of cold you couldn’t warm with a sweater Hardly lasted past December She said she was headed down to defeat That’s the last you’d seen and never had dreamed That the same little Heather – It’s who you saw last week In an instant you couldn’t have missed her gleam As she listened she looked like a distant queen With a difference, there for all to see She found a different – A different kind of free ↗
Mr. Langdon, I did not ask if you believe what man says about God. I asked if you believed in God. There is a difference. Holy scripture is stories...legends and history of man's quest to understand his own need for meaning. I am not asking you to pass judgment on literature. I am asking if you believe in God. When you lie out under the stars, do you sense the divine? Do you feel in your gut that you are staring up at the work of God's hands? ↗
Dear Edmond, While you were sleeping this afternoon, I was busy hustling around town. You see, when I woke up early this morning to clean the apartment for the party tonight, I noticed that all your furniture was missing. And by all, I do mean everything. So I raced around town trying to replace all your pieces. Fortunately, I did manage to pick up some new furniture. It looks exactly like your old furniture, only you're still missing the armoire that your grandmother left you in her will. But the great thing is they have one that looks exactly like your grandmother's armoire at the pawn shop just up the road. But there was some random good news today. In the cushions of the new sofa, the one that looks exactly like your old sofa, I found about $500 dollars. So I took the liberty of loading up the liquor cabinet and buying a keg. But I don't want you to be depressed about your armoire, or worry about paying me back for buying you all new furniture. Just promise me you'll have a good time at the party. And since I know that you are disappointed about having to pick up another armoire at the pawn shop, I won't even make you go half with me on the booze. I wouldn't dream of it. Friends help friends out when they are in need, right? I couldn't possibly accept $250 dollars from you. But I know how you are. You won't accept any gifts, right? You're so freaking stubborn. Well, if you really want to pay me back, you can slip the money in an envelope under my door after the party tonight. We're going to have a crazy night tonight! So cheer up, buddy. ↗
#comical #funny #humor #party #ridiculous
They say that dogs may dream, and when Topsy was old, his feet would move in his sleep. With his eyes closed he would often make a noise that sounded quite human, as if greeting someone in his dreams. At first it seemed that he believed Sara would return, but as the years went by I understood that his loyalty asked for no reward, and that love comes in unexpected forms. His wish was small, as hers had been -- merely to be beside her. As for me, I already knew I would never get what I wanted. ↗
I love you," he whispered, and that was the moment he knew what he was going to do. When you loved someone, you put their needs before your own. No matter how inconceivable those needs were; no matter how fucked up; no matter how much it made you feel like you were ripping yourself into pieces. ↗
After two years' absence she finally returned to chilly Europe, a trifle weary, a trifle sad, disgusted by our banal entertainments, our shrunken landscapes, our impoverished lovemaking. Her soul had remained over there, among the gigantic, poisonous flowers. She missed the mystery of old temples and the ardor of a sky blazing with fever, sensuality and death. The better to relive all these magnificent, raging memories, she became a recluse, spending entire days lying about on tiger skins, playing with those pretty Nepalese knives 'which dissipate one's dreams'. ↗
