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“لا , لا ٔاريد ٔان يفهمني بشري ٕاذا كان فهمه ٕاياي ضرباً من العبودية المعنوية . وما ٔاكثر الذين يتوهمون ٔانهم يفهموننا لأنهم وجدوا في بعض مظاهرنا شئياً شبيهاً بما اختبروه مرة في حياتهم . وليتهم يكتفون بادعائهم ادراك ٔاسرارنا – تلك الأسرار التي نحن ذواتنا لا ندركها – ولكنهم يصموننا بعلامات و أرقام ثم يضعوننا علىٕ رف من رفوف ٔافكارهم واعتقاداتهم مثلما يفعل الصيدلي بقناني الدوية والمساحيق !”
― جبران خليل جبران, Love Letters: The Love Letters of Kahlil Gibran to May Ziadah

“Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell

leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses,
you make him call before
he visits, you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.”
― Marty McConnell

“I'm killing time and it's dying hard.”
― Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye

“It’s times like this…. when it’s over a year later and I’m still crying over you that I want to turn to you and say: See…. This is why I asked you never to kiss me.”
― Ranata Suzuki