sad

On those nights, the words were for me alone. They came up unbidden from my heart. They spilled over my tongue and spilled out my mouth. And because of them, I, who was nothing and nobody, was a prince of Denmark, a maid of Verona, a queen of Egypt. I was a sour misanthrope, a beetling hypocrite, a conjurer's daughter, a mad and murderous king.

Eventually, I__l grow sick and perish. Die on the floor, a young girl__ho even when in the presence of company, still feels the loneliness that looms over her heart.

It__ just that you go so crazy being alone like that. Sometimes he__ forget my water or food and I__ cry and cry and cry._ She stops talking and looks out the window. __ would try to tell myself stories to pass the time. Fairy tales. Parts of books. But they got used up.

i felt her absence. it was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. you wouldn't need to run to the mirror to know they were gone

With her mouth closed, her mind screamed.

People have been telling so many lies. At the end you won't believe the simple truth.

The whiskey was a good start. I got the idea from Dylan Thomas. He's this poet who drank twenty-one straight whiskeys at the White Horse Tavern in New York and then died on the spot from alcohol poisoning. I've always wanted to hear the bartender's side of the story. What was it like watching this guy drink himself out of here? How did it feel handing him number twenty-one and watching his face crumple up before the fall of the stool? And did he already have number twenty-two poured, waiting for this big fat tip, and then have to drink it himself after whoever came took the body away?

He wasn__ a good person, but I painted him to be and since I painted it, I believed it.

Well, at least this is what I told myself every day as I fell asleep with the fire still burning and the moon shining high up in the sky and my head spinning comforting from two bottles of wine, and I smiled with tears in my eyes because it was beautiful and so god damn sad and I did not know how to be one of those without the other.

It doesn't matter where I go, I don't want to be there. And then I get to the next place, and I don't want to be there either.

The advice to "kill your darlings" has been attributed to various authors across the various galaxies... and Mister Heist hated them all.Why teach young writers to edit out whatever it is they feel most passionate about?Better to kill everything in their writing they DON'T love as much.Until only the darlings remain.

I'll tell you something, Harpy," he said, his voice almost a whisper now. "It never even occurred to me that we wouldn't make it. And it never occurred to you that we would. You were just waiting for us to go down in flames. I thought we could get through anything.

If I had to choose a moment in time when I knew my life would be different going forward__hen I knew I would be different__his would be it.

Wish for the best, prepare for the worst

the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings

For some reason, I kept seeing it__t trembled and silkily glowed on my damp retina__ radiant child of twelve, sitting on a threshold, "pinging" pebbles at an empty can.

In the serenity and quiet of this lovely place, touch the depths of truth, feel the hem of Heaven. And when you leave, don't forget why you came...

He did not have anything on him except her thoughts, except the good times he had once shared and the bad times he so desperately wanted to forget.