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Sunday, February 12, 2012

| day sixty-one |

“I want men to admire me, but that's a trick you learn at school--a movement of the eyes, a tone of voice, a touch of the hand on the shoulder or the head. If they think you admire them, they will admire you because of your good taste, and when they admire you, you have an illusion for a moment that there's something to admire.”

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Friday, February 10, 2012

| day fifty-nine |

“In our hearts there is a ruthless dictator, ready to contemplate the misery of a thousand strangers if it will ensure the happiness of the few we love.” 
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Yes, I realize this photo is old, but I just found it and felt its nostalgia was appropriate...

Thursday, February 9, 2012

| day fifty-eight |

What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

| day fifty-seven |


“Give me lust, baby. Flash. Give me malice. Flash. Give me detached existentialist ennui. Flash. Give me rampant intellectualism as a coping mechanism.”

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

| day fifty-six |

"And when we love our sin, then we are damned indeed.” 

Monday, February 6, 2012

| day fifty-five |

Don’t forget, a great impression of simplicity can only be achieved by great agony of body and spirit.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

| day fifty-four |

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

Saturday, February 4, 2012

| day fifty-three |

"Starting tomorrow, I'll only exist at night."

Friday, February 3, 2012

| day fifty-two |

"And dawn goes down to day, nothing gold can stay."

Thursday, February 2, 2012

| day fifty-one |

“I believe in love. And beauty. I believe that every single person has something they find beautiful and that they truly love. The smell of their child's hair, the silence of a forest, their lover's crooked grin. Their country, their religion, their family. And I believe that if you follow this love all the way to its end, if you start with the thing you find most beautiful and trace it's perfume back to its essence, you will perceive an intangible presence, a swath of stillness that allows the thing you love to be visible like the openness of the sky reveals the presence of the moon.”

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

| day fifty |

I wish we could do something really sinful.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

| day forty-nine |

In this play I wrote, a woman appears naked on stage. She has a black square painted on her bare stomach. She tries to convince the gentleman on stage that it is a painting of the two of them in a boat on a lake on a moonless night.This is you paddling from the stern, she says. He sees nothing but a black square. Trees are blowing gently in the wind right below my ribs. She makes a gesture to her ribs and starts crying. Silence fills the stage as he touches the painting with his finger. He gets on his knees to study it. A pirate enters.

Monday, January 30, 2012

| day forty-eight |

“Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life."

Sunday, January 29, 2012

| day forty-seven |

“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.”

Saturday, January 28, 2012

| day forty-six |

I lay for a long time in silence, staring at the ceiling. Was my life always to be like this? I wondered. Was it going to go, forever, in an instant, from sunshine to shadow? From pandemonium to loneliness? From fierce anger to a fiercer kind of love?

Thursday, January 26, 2012

| day forty-five |

"Oh, the places you'll go!"

| day forty-four |


“Who has not sat before his own heart's curtain? It lifts: and the scenery is falling apart.”

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

| day forty-three |

"...she was the hiss of steam, the clink of a cup, she was a certain hour of the night and the promise of rest."

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

| day forty-two |

"You would never believe this snow; it gets so heavy on our lungs, but it's been creeping up your walls and closing down the roads. But I swear I'm loving while I swear I still hide away from the cold."