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Quote by Lara Biyuts

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Lara Biyuts

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“He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.”

“If I had a drink, I’d drink to that— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber That sounds serious. You should see a doctor for that— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber That’s how it is for us girls… No matter how much talent we have, most of us girls are just a feature away from famous— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber We work our butts off night after night and give the audience everything we have. And when the show is over, and we take off all those pretty costumes, what happens to us? We walk out that stage door, and we dissolve into a crowd of nameless faces— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber For me, the best girl is the one you can be at ease with— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber We still have a few things to iron out… You’ll need a big iron! — White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber As long as we can stop and get a massage afterward. My feet are killing me… Your feet are killing me, too! — White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber Can I get you a drink, Grandpa?… You’re a little young to get the drink I need— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber The reason I say the war took him is because it didn’t give him back. The man who went away to war was not the man who came back from war. Somewhere on those battlefields in Europe, I lost the man I loved, and he never really came back to me— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber If the Army taught me anything, it’s that sometimes we advance and sometimes we retreat, but we all need to hear the same bugle call— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber War affects us all, not just the ones who were there— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber We were soldiers. We didn’t fight in the same battles, but we fought in the same war. We laid our lives on the line every day for our country, even though it cost us dearly. We’re brothers in arms, you see. And when one brother is down, we pick him up, because we know that when we’re down he’ll pick us up. That’s what brothers do— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber If you want to win a man, sometimes you need to give him the full-court press before some other gal does— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber A woman needs to know you’re interested, or she’ll think you’re not— White Christmas Homecoming by Mark Streuber”

“Percy, let me go" she croaked. "You can't pull me up." His face was white with effort. She could see in his eyes that he knew it was hopeless. "Never," he said. He looked up at Nico, fifteen feet above. "The other side, Nico! We'll see you there. Understand?" Nico's eyes widened. "But-" "Lead them!" Percy shouted. "Promise me!" "I-I will." Below them, the voice laughed in the darkness. Sacrifices. Beautiful sacrifices to wake the goddess. Percy tightened his grip on Annabeth's wrist. His face was gaunt, scraped and bloody, his hair dusted with cobwebs, but when he locked eyes with her, she thought he had never looked more handsome. "We're staying together," he promised. "You're not getting away from me. Never again." Only then did she understand what would happen. A one-way trip. A very hard fall. "As long as we're together," she said. She heard Nico and Hazel still screaming for help. She saw sunlight far, far above- maybe the last sunlight she would ever see. Then Percy let go of his ledge, and together, holding hands, he and Annabeth fell into the endless darkness.”

“Emotions, in my experience, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in "sadness," "joy," or "regret." Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, "the happiness that attends disaster." Or: "the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy." I'd like to show how "intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members" connects with "the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age." I'd like to have a word for "the sadness inspired by failing restaurants" as well as for "the excitement of getting a room with a minibar." I've never had the right words to describe my life, and now that I've entered my story, I need them more than ever.”

“Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn’t have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn’t have to be a walk during which you’ll have multiple life epiphanies and discover meanings no other brain ever managed to encounter. Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but 'steal' some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.”

“The way sadness works is one of the strange riddles of the world. If you are stricken with a great sadness, you may feel as if you have been set aflame, not only because of the enormous pain, but also because your sadness may spread over your life, like smoke from an enormous fire. You might find it difficult to see anything but your own sadness, the way smoke can cover a landscape so that all anyone can see is black. You may find that if someone pours water all over you, you are damp and distracted, but not cured of your sadness, the way a fire department can douse a fire but never recover what has been burnt down.”