Novel Quotes

"Better to write just thoughts which have got wisdom a lot than a whole book that is not even worth referring for its quotes by a sensible reader and yet be regarded as a published author or celebrity."
~Anuj Somany
NOTHING IN THIS LIFE WILL EVER MAKE SENSE TO ME BUT I CAN'T HELP BUT TRY TO COLLECT THE CHANGE AND HOPE IT'S ENOUGH TO PAY FOR OUR MISTAKES. 



YOU'ROXYGEN
&I'M DYING TO BREATHE.

in the absence of human relationships
i form bonds with paper characters.

The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. it's always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it's a different version of itself. sometimes weak and van, sometimes strong and full of light. the moon understands what it's like to be human.

tahereh mafi, shatter me

 

“We are all recovering from something, and the right companions can help you heal. The wrong ones can kill you."

― Sherry Shahan, Skin and Bones

 

Its so easy to label people, to look at a list of symptoms and say
"this is who you are. This is what you are."

eli


portland, oregon 2014

10:13 A.M


“Eli!”

Eli shot up with a start, wondering if he had been dreaming or not.

“Eli!”

That little hope that maybe it was a dream was shattered by the blood-curdling scream of his little sister.  He clumsily climbed out of bed and jogged to Rosie’s room, opening her door to see her knees pulled up to her chest, and he eyes covered with her blanket.

Eli climbed into bed next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Rosie?”

The look of absolute terror she gave him when she looked at him confirmed his suspicions; her nightmares were back.

He knew it wasn’t easy for Rosie; a 13 year old girl who still sleeps with a stuffed animal and a nightlight is bound to get constant teasing from her peers, and she did.  She was constantly coming home with a tear-stained face and her mother often complained about the amount of calls she received from her throughout the day.  Eli didn’t mind, though.  “He would always be there for her,” he often told her.  And he meant it.

They laid down under the heart-covered comforter and Rosie told him about her recurring dream.  Eli played with her hair and told her things such as, “It’ll be ok,” and, “I’m right here,” and, “It was just a dream, it’s over now.”  And soon she went to sleep to him humming a tune his mother used to sing to him.

august

new york city, new york, 2014

9:47 A.M


August arrived at the airport, a carry on hanging over her shoulders, a duffel bag in one hand, and a suitcase rolling behind her in the other. Her caramel brown hair was pulled to the side in a plait, multiple wisps escaping the style. The morning was somewhat rushed, so she just threw on one of her big cream sweaters and a pair of black leggings, along with a pair of chestnut suede wedge booties.

She listened to her parents argue and bicker until finally pressing her headphones deeper into her ears in hopes of blocking out the quarreling voices.

She sat down in a chair as they awaited their flight, throwing her stuff down next to her and sitting back. Her brother sat in the empty seat next to her, hands in his pockets. They didn’t make eye contact.

No matter how high her volume was turned up, no matter how deep her headphones were into her ears – she could hear her parents constantly in discord.

“What do you all day besides sit on your butt and drink?! You’re nothing but a scumbag and a good-for-nothing!” her mother, Colleen, would proclaim, fists clenched.

“And what do you do, Colleen? How much time do you spend with your children? Why don’t you answer that?” her father would roar. It was kind of embarrassing, really – not only the fact that they were arguing in an airport, but the fact that they were competing for best parent when the award clearly went out to, oh wait, neither.

She slumped back further into her chair and felt a sensation of relief when there was a heavy silence among the two.
Now they only had to stay like this for another four hours until they reached their destination – Portland, Oregon.


"Did you really want to
die?"
"No one commits
suicide because they
want to die."
"Then why do they do
it?"
"Because they want to
stop the pain."
--HOW TO KILL A ROCK STAR
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