She wasn't bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.

Downtown. Lights on buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

There's nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.

Old pictures look very rugged and young, and the people in the photographs always seem a lot happier than you are.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

I really think that everyone should have watercolors, magnetic poetry, and a harmonica.

Maybe these are my glory days, and I'm not ever realizing it because they involve a ball.

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

please believe that things are good with me, and even when they're not, they will be soon enough. And i will always believe the same about you.

And I guess I realized at that moment that I really did love her. Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn't matter.

So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

If we had given up too soon, we would have miss the sunniest of today.

her heart was the defendant, in the court waiting for the last decision and the judge was th mind.is it the end of love

Parla Come Mangi' --It is a common way to say 'be simple', 'don't try to be rhetorical' literaly: 'speak the way you eat

There was a strange kind of comfort in misunderstandings and differences that were old enough to have lost their teeth.

As many have noted, the peril for authors is that our work space is too easily our play space.

Simplifying to the extreme, I define postmodern as incredulity toward metanarratives.

I like playing the stuff where I don´t know what I´m gonna play. Like the end of Fake Plastic Trees or the end of Paranoid Android - stuff where I can do anything and no one notices or cares.

One performs a very different act when reading a movie and when reading a novel. Your attention behaves differently.

The fool too late, his substance eaten up, reckons the cost.

I like walking around and listening to music. When my steps coincide with a beat, in my head I feel in unison with the world that I'm living in.