May > May's Quotes

“I like the moment when I break a man's ego”
― Bobby Fischer

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.”
― H.P. Lovecraft

“I wonder if it’s possible to have a love affair that lasts forever. If you’re married for 30 years and you’re making breakfast for the one you love and and he walks in, does your heart skip a beat? Anyway, it’s nice to have a little breakfast made for you”
― Andy Warhol, Diários de Andy Warhol - Caixa 2 Volumes

“Every song has a memory; every song has the ability to make or break your heart, shut down the heart, and open the eyes. But I’m afraid if you look at a thing long enough; it loses all of its meaning”
― Andy Warhol

“I walked through the cemetery holding a bouquet of yellow and red flowers with brown combat boots, feeling grateful and bitter the sun was shining so brightly.

I felt an urge to run, as well as a magnet to reach the group of people surrounding you.

I wanted to be wearing white.

I wanted to be walking down an isle with flowers and for this to be a different ceremony.

I wanted to curl up beside the earth that held you, the pink and yellow petals, strings of ground hanging loosely in the wind and be beside you.

I was angry you were buried, I resented the earth falling upon you. Each scoop felt heavy and indefinite.
I'm not ready to know this is definite.

I watched your chest, in a white linen shirt last night wishing for your chest to rise.

But when I kissed your forehead it was cold. And when I held your hands it wasn't you. It was a shell. It was a vessel. It was empty.

The first time I heard your new music it was by accident and your voice drove me from your home into hysterics. But when I entered your home and it played with your casket it was welcome.

I read your letter with your mom and dad out loud beside you, and halfway through "spelunking in your soul" started to play.

That was a gift, thank you.
Today walking back from the funeral a green and black beetle landed in my hair and crawled onto my finger. I just had a bad moment with a woman in your life and I felt you in the little beetle.

I'm writing something to be read at your celebration of life. It's not going to be read by me. I have a wedding in Joshua tree. But I will celebrate you in the desert there.
I wanted to read the poem "sex and wine for breakfast" I wrote about you but figured I would go less steamy.

I love you.”
― Janne Robinson