Tangisan tidak hanya diperuntukkan bagi orang-orang lemah. Tangisan diciptakan untuk orang-orang kuat, untuk mengingatkan mereka bahwa kesalahan adalah sesuatu yang wajar, dan tidak apa-apa jika sesekali kita merasakan takut, sesal, ataupun sedih.
Even a fool recognizes that there is great sadness in a bucket of tears. But only a wise man thinks to conserve water and use that bucket to wash his car.
My first feeling was that there was no way to continue. Writing isn't like math;in math, two plus two always equals four no matter what your mood is like. With writing, the way you feel changes everything.
She knew I could tell with one glance, one look, one simple instant. It was her eyes. Despite the thick makeup, they were still dark-rimmed., haunted, and sad. Most of all though, they were familiar. The fact that we were in front of hundreds of strangers changed nothing at all. I'd spent a summer with those same eyes-scared, lost, confused-staring back at me. I would have known them anywhere.
Anne was always glad in the happiness of her friends; but it is sometimes a little lonely to be surrounded everywhere by happiness that is not your own.
Aika often says that she is the only one capable of loving me the same way I am is the one capable of loving her, and no one will be able to stand my twisted personality other than her and for me to betray her is unthinkable and impossible
I feel I've lost every part of me...there's nothing left but the parts I've given to you. I need you to hold those pieces together. Please don't forget who I was...then...then there really will be nothing left.
...she imagines her body curled in the narrow monk's bed, knees to chin, her own irrefutable geography, but she sees the blood of her futile heart seeping out over her chest and arms and legs, flooding across the rough wooden floor, down the narrow wooden stairs and out into the old soil of the garden. No roses, no, she does not even ask to make roses, just dissolution; most any night she asks just for that.
I was woken by a shell-burst in the trench of sleep. Heart skipping, with eyes fighting light, my thoughts sprang up like a field of starlings startled by a farmer's gunshot, a thousand separate, autonomous specks that swirled into a single united black shape.
I don't want to cry for Edward- at least not in the deep, personal way that you cry for a friend or loved one. I want to cry because something terrible happened, and I saw it, and I could not see a way to mend it.