Knowing the future is different from being told what I like.
I think about cutting my hair. How nice it would be to wash it, run a quick comb through it, and presto! all set, ready to rock and roll. I sigh. Henry loves my hair almost as though it were a creatur...
I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room
We are walking down the street holding hands. There is a playground at the end of the block, and I run to the swings and I climb on and Henry takes the one next to me facing the opposite direction. An...
I want my own bed, in my own apartment. Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is where the heart is. But my heart is here. So I must be home.
Time is priceless, but it’s Free. You can't own it, you can use it. You can spend it. But you can't keep it. Once you've lost it you can never get it back.
I wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always.
When you live with a woman you learn something every day. So far I have learned that long hair will clog up the shower drain befor you can say Liquid-Plumr; that it is not advisable to clip something...
I wish for a moment that time would lift me out of this day, and into some more benign one. But then I feel guilty for wanting to avoid the sadness; dead people need us to remember them, even if it ea...
It's hard being left behind. (...) It's hard to be the one who stays.
Roy is my favorite security guy. He's a huge African-American gentleman who always has a beautiful smile on his face. He's the King of the Main Desk, and I'm always glad to arrive at work and bask in...
… dead people need us to remember them, even if it eats us, even if all we can do is say until it is as meaningless as air.
It's hard to be the one who stays. I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way. I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. I take walks. I work until I'm tired. I watch the wind play with the trash tha...
The hardest lesson is Clare’s solitude. Sometimes I come home and Clare seems kind of irritated; I’ve interrupted some train of thought, broken into the dreary silence of her day. Sometimes I see an e...
Maybe I'm dreaming you. Maybe you're dreaming me; maybe we only exist in each other's dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about each other.
What we need,' Henry says, 'is a fresh start. A blank slate. Let's call her Tabula Rasa.
She's going to break my heart and I'm going to let her.
Kad sam bio mlad, nisam razumio, ali sada znam kako odsutnost može biti prisutna, poput oštećenog živca, poput tamne ptice. Da sam morao nastaviti živjeti bez tebe, znam da ne bih mogao.
Is it sad to fancy David Tennant when you're dead?
Is it sad to fancy David Tennant when you’re dead? Elspeth
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