#me

There's nothing special about you,' said the man. 'There's nothing special about any of us.' His gesture embraced them all: prisoners, guards, foremen. ↗

— J.M. Coetzee

#life

They are so very cultivated, so very rich and so utterly charming. At the end of each day, they all ask themselves: 'Is it time I stopped?' And they all reply: 'If I did, there would be no meaning to my life.' As if they actually knew what the meaning of life was. ↗

— Paulo Coelho

#life #meaning #life

Alexander moved her off him, laid her down, was over her, was pressed into her, crushing her. Anthony was right there, he didn't care, he was trying to inhale her, trying to absorb her into himself. "All this time you were stepping out in front of me, Tatiana," he said. "Now I finally understand. You hid me on Bethel Island for eight months. For two years you hid me and deceived me - to save me. I am such an idiot," he whispered. "Wretch or not, ravaged or not, in a carapace or not, there you still were, stepping out for me, showing the mute mangled stranger your brave and indifferent face." Her eyes closed, her arms tightened around his neck. "That stranger is my life," she whispered. They crawled away from Anthony, from their only bed, onto a blanket on the floor, barricading themselves behind the table and chairs. "You left our boy to go find me, and this is what you found..." Alexander whispered, on top of her, pushing inside her, searching for peace. Crying out underneath him, Tatiana clutched his shoulders. "This is what you brought back from Sachsenhausen." his movement was tense, deep, needful. Oh God. Now there was comfort. "You thought you were bringing back him, but Tania, you brought back me." "Shura...you'll have to do..." Her fingers were clamped into his scars. "In you," said Alexander, lowering his lips to her parted mouth and cleaving their flesh, "are the answers to all things." All the rivers flowed into the sea and still the sea was not full. ↗

— Paullina Simons

#romance #the-summer-garden #life

When we realize the shortness of life, we begin to see the importance of making every moment count. ↗

— Dillon Burroughs

#make-every-moment-count #life

Charity begins at home. ↗

— American proverb

#home

Ever poised on that cusp between past and future, we tie memories to souvenirs like string to trees along life’s path, marking the trail in case we lose ourselves around a bend of tomorrow’s road. ↗

— Susan Lendroth

#memory #nostalgia #past #remembering #souvenir

Who was that?" Sam asked as we walked out of the photo hut. "I work with him. It's cool," I said, rubbing my arm absentmindedly. "He seems like an ass." Mercy laughed. "But a cute one. And he has a cute one too. You're lucky he's all into you, Amerie. I say go for it." I shot her a look. "You'd tell me to go for a psycho murderer, if he was cute." "Meh. Life's short. ↗

— C. Gray

#my-heart-be-damned #life

Can I just say that the first kiss of your life (that you can remember) should not taste like cigarette smoke? With that said, it is a heart-melting, nerve-wracking, body-aching, feet-sweating, overall best first kiss ever. ↗

— Anonymous

#first-kiss #heart-melting #kiss #taste #life

„Tik išgėręs žmogus su malonumu gali prisiminti ką nors nemalonaus iš savo gyvenimo. ↗

— Sigitas Parulskis

#life #memories-truth #past #life

It was dark now, and broodingly sluggish. Like something supine waiting to spring, with just the tip of its tail twitching. Leaves stood still on the trees. An evil green star glinted in the black sky like a hostile eye, like an evil spying eye. ("For The Rest Of Her Life") ↗

— Cornell Woolrich

#evil #night #omen #ominous #star