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Affichage des articles du décembre 18, 2017

“Just looking at you is hurtful. That’s how beautiful you are. You hurt to look at.”

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He has a way of watching her that makes her feel as if she is the most important thing in the world.

At his best, we are more than all right. At his best he rises above all of it and he is more than any of them. But there is something in him. A flaw that poisons all the rest.

You need to surrender yourself to death before you ever begin, and accept your life as a state of grace, and then and only then will you be good enough.

Humanity is killing itself—slowly, ruinously, collectively shitting in its bathwater, shitting on the world just because they cannot conceive that the world exists.

He turns her head this way and that, looking into her intently. Finally, he says, “Do you know this, kibble? Do you know what you mean to me? You save my life every morning that you get up and out of bed. I hear your little footsteps padding down your stairwell and I think, that’s my girl, that’s what I’m living for.” He is silent for a moment. She shakes her head, her heart creaking with anger.

He believe…