onsdag

I Made a House of Houselessness

I made a house of houselessness,
A garden of your going:
And seven trees of seven wounds
You gave me, all unknowing:
I made a feast of golden grief
That you so lordly left me,
I made a bed of all the smiles
Whereof your lip bereft me:
I made a sun of your delay,
Your daily loss, his setting:
I made a wall of all your words
And a lock of your forgetting.

by Rose O’Neill

torsdag

"Note to Self: Just say what you mean and mean what you say. Don’t expect someone to read your mind and don’t play games with heads or hearts. Don’t tell half truths and expect trust when the full truth comes out; half truths are no better then lies. Don’t be cold to someone you care about; indifference hurts more than angry words."

fredag

“So, I guess we are who we are for alot of reasons. And maybe we’ll never know most of them. But even if we don’t have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.”
— Stephen Chbosky