Delightfully deranged. These poems beg to be read aloud (or shut in a closet where no one will ever find them). I want to hug the author, take her to tea, and then gently escort her to a mental institution.
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
Rainer Maria Rilke
“Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share.”
Mark Z. Danielewski,
House of Leaves
“He knew that I love you also means I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else.”
Jonathan Safran Foer,
Everything Is Illuminated
Fate brought us together, Lived together, College or University, Family, Club or Organization
"Blame it on the rain. Or the library. Or the cracker dances. Or her man pajamas, because DAMN she looks sexy in those. I miss her dancing up on me while I'm trying to bake cookies, yelling "I'M NOT YOUR MOTHER, I'M NOT YOUR MOTHER""