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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“It doesn’t even—” one word “hurt ” was supposed to come out of my mouth. Instead, a string of obscenities to make a lifelong sailor proud shoot out. “What thefuck are you doing? Shit! You don’t pour it on like that, you fucking jackhole! Fuck!” I’m seething in pain, the sting agonizing. Ashton isn’t paying any heed, turning my hand this way and that to examine it closer. “Looks clean.” “Yeah, because you just bleached the shit out of it!” “Relax. It’ll stop stinging soon. Distract yourself by staring at me while we wait for this to settle down. That’s how you got yourself into this mess to begin with . . .”

“It doesn’t ever change. Does the sun not set in your dreams?” Eena grinned at his profile, remembering the first time Ian had noticed the same peculiarity. “No. It never sets.” She watched his brow wrinkle as he wondered at the view. “What good is a stagnant sunset?” Eena looked at the auburn lights. The question made her think for a moment. “Well, it’s always exactly what I want it to be, right between day and night.” “But I thought the beauty of a sunset was watching it change, marveling at the shift in colors as they intensify and then eventually fade.” “All that leaves you with is darkness,” she muttered. He turned to look at her. “You’re afraid of the dark?” She shook her head. “I’m afraid of what happens in the dark.” A look of concern questioned her meaning. “Nightmares,” she explained. “And solitude. And loneliness. The dark is where monsters come to life and people feel the need to leave you. Life is never secure in the dark. You never see things clearly in the dark.”

“It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”

“It doesn’t have to be black and white. You have a structured workout and sure that makes your life easier. You have a template to follow. But if you don’t have 45 minutes to do that workout, you can do 10 minutes of it. If you don’t have time to train, you can take your dog for a walk. There’s so many ways you can make these incremental changes that will lead to overall better habits.”

“It doesn't help that I'm famous for a thing I started when I was a kid. I think of what it would be like if everyone was famous for a thing they did when they were thirteen: their middle school band, their seventh grade science project, their eighth-grade play. The middle school years are the years to stumble, fall, and tuck under the rug as soon as you're done with them because you've already outgrown them by the time you're fifteen.”

“It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!” It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”

“It doesn’t knock. Doesn’t bloom like it used to. Just shows up in the way someone remembers how you take your tea. In a song that doesn’t ache anymore. It slips between the cracks of the day in the quiet of forgotten habits, in hands that don’t flinch when reaching for yours. Love returns slowly. In mismatched mugs, and the softness of being asked if you’ve slept. In laughter that feels like rinsed linen clean, familiar, light. It’s a slow thing, like the light that finds its way through closed blinds.”

“It doesn't matter," he said, staring at the wall, at the cracking plaster, the waterstain that looked like a giant feeding spider. "Nothing does. We all strive to say something—as if it's important. As if there can be some lasting value . . . And yet we all know mankind is doomed to nothingness. Immortality." He laughed bitterly. "There's no such thing. There's no meaning to anything. We get up in the morning, we push through the day, we go to sleep. Day after day. Endlessness. Meaninglessness.”

“It doesn't matter how busy life's been, how long the five of us have gone without seeing one another: meeting at the cottage is like pulling on a favourite sweatshirt, worn to perfection. Time doesn't move the same way when we're there. Things change, but we stretch and grow and make room for one another. Our love is a place we can always come back to, and it will be waiting, the same as it ever was. You belong here.”