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Quote by Timothy Schaffert

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The Coffins of Little Hope

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Timothy Schaffert

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“I don’t want to say it, I truly don’t, but if you’ve gone this far I suppose it’s obvious that what was ignited when I loved you continues to burn. But that’s of small importance to you now, and that’s how it should be. Everything is in its place. The past rests, breathing faintly in the darkness. It no longer holds me as it used to; now I must reach back to touch it. It is night and I am alone and there is still time, a moment more. I am standing on a long black stage, with a circle of light on me, which is my love for you, enduring. I have escaped—or have been expelled—from eternity and am back in time. But I step out once more to sing this aria, this confession, this testament without end. My arms open wide, not to embrace you but to embrace the world, the mystery we are caught in. There is no orchestra, no audience; it is an empty theater in the middle of the night and all the clocks in the world are ticking. And now for this last time, Jade, I don’t mind, or even ask if it is madness: I see your face, I see you, you; I see you in every seat.”

“If you love sex, let it be known. You don’t have to walk around downtown naked or have some flyers printed up, but definitely don’t be shy about your love (or obsession) for sex.”

“For some, like me, writing comes at a price. My best creations were written while I was emotionally ripped open. I've spent some scenes so mentally self-exposed that I could barely see what I was writing. And as I sit here-my heart pounding, heaviness threatening to pull my heart down to my stomach, I ask myself this question...are you ready to bleed some more? I smile and without pause, I pull up my current WIP.”

“Laura, this isn't love. Love lets you go on a trip without following you. Love can live without you for a week, knowing you'll come back.' 'No, it can't.' The afternoon shadows grew long and cold. In spite of the chill, a heat rose up inside her and flooded her face. 'That's how you know it's true love. When he can't live without you.' Karen shook her head. 'That's how you know it's obsession. Or something else.”

“ليسَ من أجلي أنهضُ كلَّ صباحٍ بصوتٍ يتكسرُ وحلمٍ يصدأُ. ليسَ من أجلي أجولُ كلَّ يومٍ الأرصفةَ ذاتَها. ضاحكاً من كتابةِ ذكرى، مؤجلاً غَدِي برعبِ يومي. متوثِّبٌ للنسيان. مخلصٌ للسهو أسهو عن مخاذلِ العيش عن الأصدقاءِ وهم يكذبون عن جثةٍ -هي الحقيقةُ- تبلغُها فتموتُ بين يديكَ عن رِعدَةٍ تجيءُ وتنسلُّ دونَ اكتراثِ أحد عن ظلٍّ زائفٍ وشعوبٍ بآجالٍ ورقية عن الخيانات عن أطفالٍ يموتونَ قبلَ أن يُدركوا الرمق وعن شتلةِ المطاطِ تموتُ في الزاويةِ رغماً عني”