Want Me Quotes (page 88)
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A writer, or at least a poet, is always being asked by people who should know better: “Whom do you write for?” The question is, of course, a silly one, but I can give it a silly answer. Occasionally I come across a book which I feel has been written especially for me and for me only. Like a jealous lover I don’t want anybody else to hear of it. To have a million such readers, unaware of each other’s existence, to be read with passion and never talked about, is the daydream, surely, of every...
W. H. Auden
But I don't want to go back. Not yet. Just because. Because every once in a while, somebody brings me my lunch tray and my meds and he has a black eye or his forehead is swollen with stitches, and he says:"We miss you Mr. Durden."Or somebody with a broken nose pushes a mop past me and whispers:"Everything's going according to the plan. Whispers"We're going to break up civilization so we can make something better out of the world."Whispers"We look forward to getting you back.
Chuck Palahniuk
I think we can do it."But you don't know for sure," he said."No."Geez, Anita."Don't get rattled on me. We can do this."But you aren't sure."I'm not sure we'll survive the plane ride home, but I'm still getting on the plane."Was that supposed to be comforting?" he asked."Yeah."It wasn't," he said."Sorry, but this is as good as it gets. You want certainty, be an accountant."I'm not good at math."Me either.
Laurell K. Hamilton
I didn't want to be in hell, even for a moment. I sure as hell wasn't going there just to spit in the face of the Prince of Darkness, whoever he might be! On the contrary, if I was a damned thing, then let the son of a bitch come for me! Let him tell me why I was mean to suffer. I would truly like to know. As for oblivion, well, we can wait a little while for that.
Anne Rice
It is this nothingness (in solitude) that I have to face in my solitude, a nothingness so dreadful that everything in me wants to run to my friends, my work, and my distractions so that I can forget my nothingness and make myself believe that I am worth something. The task is to persevere in my solitude, to stay in my cell until all my seductive visitors get tired of pounding on my door and leave me alone. The wisdom of the desert is that the confrontation with our own frightening...
Henri Nouwen
February 13, 1936I ask of people more than they can give me. It is useless to maintain the contrary. But what a mistake and what despair. And myself perhaps...Seek contacts. All contacts. If I want to write about men, should I stop talking about the countryside? If the sky or light attract me, shall I forget the eyes or voices of those I love? Each time I am given the elements of a friendship, the fragments of an emotion, never the emotion or the friendship itself.
Albert Camus
If you could have looked into my heart then when I want to laugh, if you could have done so when the laugh arrived, if you could do so now, when King Laugh have pack up his crown, and all that is to him, for he go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time, maybe you would perhaps pity me the most of all.
Bram Stoker
I wasn't in love with her. And she didn't love me. For me the question of love was irrelevant. What I sought was the sense of being tossed about by some raging, savage force, in the midst of which lay something absolutely crucial. I had no idea what that was. But I wanted to thrust my hand right inside her body and touch it, whatever it was.
Haruki Murakami
Mr. Mancini had a singular talent for making me uncomfortable. He forced me to consider things I’d rather not think about – the sex of my guitar, for instance. If I honestly wanted to put my hands on a woman, would that automatically mean I could play? Gretchen’s teacher never told her to think of her piano as a boy. Neither did Lisa’s flute teacher, though in that case the analogy was obvious. On the off chance that sexual desire was all it took, I steered clear of Lisa’s instrument,...
David Sedaris
I used to stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom to see what they were staring at. I wanted to
know what made their heads turn, what it was about me that was so incredibly different. At first I
couldn’t tell. I mean, I was just me.
Then one day, when I looked in the mirror, I understood. I looked into my own eyes and I hated
myself, maybe as much as all of them did.
That was the day I started to believe they might be right.
Jodi Picoult
I have been a little embarrassed always. But less so the last time. It will all disappear. You have such a delicious sense of humor--I adore that in you. I want always to see you laughing. It belongs to you. I have been thinking of places we ought to go together--little obscure places, here and there, in Paris. Just to say--here I went with Anais--here we ate or danced or got drunk together. Ah, to see you really drunk sometime, that would be a treat! I am almost afraid to suggest it--but...
Henry Miller