Clue:
She would from that day forward wrap twine around every sliver of evidence she could get her tender blossom of mind on, she didn‘t desire — fame, popularity, fortune (though she wouldn’t so much mind,) she wanted redemption for being herself, the ability to stand in this room without the slightest hint of cower. She needed respect, earned in her own way, carefully and honestly.
He was mad. He was mad because she was mad, and she was mad because he was mad. She was mad because she was mad — they were mad together. They all were sad, glad, bad, rad, and mad in a place which enabled — a place which encouraged it,
A thousand years from today, everyone you know will be long dead and forgotten. There’ll be nothing left of the life you love, no evidence that you ever walked this planet. That, at least, is what the fundamentalist materialists would have you believe. But suppose the truth is very different? What if in fact every little thing you do subtly alters the course of world history? What if your day-to-day decisions will actually help determine how the human species navigates its way through the epic turning point we’re living through? And finally, what if you will be alive in a thousand years, reincarnated into a fresh body and in possession of the memories of the person you were back in this era? These are my hypotheses. These are my prophecies. Which is why I say: Live as if your soul is eternal.
228. Be careful what you put in writing. You can’t take it back.
jaim: (via rulesformyunbornson)
she hoped he was happy now.
She had lost it all. The King, that castle, her reputable name. She didn’t so much mind all that. It would always be the weight of the guilt she’d placed on the backs of others. And the change in his formerly kind semblance of soul—she had inspired a great deal of hate. She cared a great deal about that.
hotg0ssip:ktroseknows: Paris Hilton’s show My New BFF was lame, but the one she chose, Brittany Flickinger, is a total cutie!
and then the jazz came
It set clear and tangerine, dipping into puddles and rain on the gritty city streets as though it were parting ten thousand living seas. Nobody noticed, too busy being infinite streaming laughter. Children frog-hopping puddles, drunk on the wine of reaching comfortable destination, Cabernet warming tired huddled shaking hearts.
