Countdown 24

2011 - The Pocky year

23. 12. 2007 - Spike = ♥

Aus Übersichts-/Platzgründen mache ich aus der ganzen Sache einfach mal eine fröhliche Zitatorgie. Habe ich von irgendwoher gesammelt, du kannst dich auch gerne nur auf die Bilder konzentrieren ^^.

Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is that little voice at the end of the day that says: "I'll try again tomorrow."

Sometimes, you have to run away. Not just to create distance, but to see who cares enough to run behind and pull you back.

I didn't want to hear that people lived happily ever after. I wanted to know that other people suffered, too.

The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you'd thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you've never met, maybe even someone long dead. And it's as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.

Before you, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars - points of light and reason... And then you shot across my sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by the light. I couldn't see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason for anything.

I look at the sky,
not to find something, but just
so the tears won't fall.

Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers, 'Grow, grow'.

Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.

The problem with reality is the lack of background music.

Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.

Don't tell God how big your problems are, tell your problems how big your God is.

Use what talent you possess: The woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those that sang best.

I opened myself to you only to be skinned alive. The more vulnerable I became, the faster and more deft your knife. Knowing what was happening, still I stayed and let you carve more. That's how much I loved you. That's how much.

You just have to go after what you want and if it doesn't want you back - so be it. It doesn't deserve you anyway.

The perfect ones. The beautiful ones. The right ones, the just ones, the noble ones. The ones who never break down crying in restaurants, who never do anything in secret that they would be ashamed of. The normal ones. The healthy ones. The ones who always plan ahead. The content ones. The happy ones. The ones who work hard and reap the benefits, who brush and floss after every single meal. The well-adjusted ones. The popular ones. The ones who never disappoint, the little boys who do grow up to be president. The lucky ones. The ones with perfect skin and perfect teeth and perfect figures. The ones who want what they have and have what they want.
They don't exist. The ones posing as them are even more fucked up than you.

So, das wars dann auch schon wieder. Oo~ooh. Jaja. So spannend sind sie auch nicht, da ich noch nicht die hohe Kunst der Farbbearbeitung, des Verwischens und Schrägschreibens und überhaupt beherrsche. Das kommt vielleicht noch. Irgendwann. Eines schönen fernen Tages.

23.12.07 20:26