emotions scrapbook (returned)

But what did I ever do to you? And what did I ever do to him? And what have I ever done to anyone?

Sunny Baudelaire, the youngest, liked to bite things. She was an infant, and very small for her age, scarcely larger than a boot. What she lacked in size, however, she made up for with the size and sharpness of her four teeth.

OH BABY HERE COMES THE SOUND

Someday and soon, I’ll make you proud of your boy! Though I can’t make myself taller, or smarter, or handsome, or wise, I’ll do my best, what else can I do? Since I wasn’t born perfect, like Dad or you.

As if any woman of worth would wish to be warmed by you, “little sun.” Should we find such a warrior within, she will bask in my glorious flame.

Wilt thou not rush to her aid?
Perhaps I’m getting slow in my old age, because it would seem Gaia’s beaten me to it. To think that she would be the one to break the ice. Ahem.

There’s one thing you need to remember. To all the young ones in your group, you are no longer someone who passes through their lives and is forgotten. You have become someone very important to them. Your hardships are their hardships too.

What you said was
I do not love you.
Simply.

Not once.
Not ever.
Not now.
Never.

Then you took me home with you, because it was time to undress me.

I've spent over half my life afraid, and for what? So that you can live vicariously through me?
So that you wouldn't get left behind! So that you had a chance to be happy.
Don't pretend that this is about me. I could have been happy. You didn't give me a chance.

Aetherial
Quantized
Immaterial morphs
Superpositioning
Source corona
Light spiral
Communal mind
Mindfulness
Hive scholarship
Harmonial
Infinite expanse
Infinite speed
Veil-rending

waiting in jail for the impossible criminals with the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz

I tire of these games. Why do you pretend you cannot see it? The blessing may spare them that fate, but you cannot be blind to the nascent corruption! They are not as they were.

Only in the darklins I have seen the imp hopping about, like a will-o-the-wyke without his lanthon.

He just doesn't know what to do with Star, who was so absurdly happy when Julio walked back into his life that Julio has nightmares about it.

I really think it has to be fate, you know! And by fate, I mean destiny! Did you know I’m good with astrology? Tell me, what’s your sign?

Drift down into the new, dark light without any reservations. You found my breaking point. Congratulations.

So our fathers said – and they were wise – we think – at any rate, they were older than ourselves. And the report is, what’s old is wise.

Long story.
Oh, is it?
No, not really, but that is the rote answer you are meant to give when a question is asked that is too complicated to get into.

I just thought it was… time for us to… make a home together.
Yes! Yes! That would be, well – that would be neat!

I thought that you… might be angry with me…
I am mad. Even now, I’m furious! You left your students in a dangerous situation. Then you went and pushed yourself despite your injuries. I thought you were going to die! So yes, of course I’m livid!

When I arrived here, I received a hero’s welcome. Your father himself ushered me to Elysium. But that’s not what I wanted.
You wanted to see Patroclus. But, he’s in Elysium, while you… oh, no.

A lovely lady of noble birth ventured forth in search of her lost love, joined by her two most loyal servants, sworn to follow her unto world’s end. On their journey, they met a sorcerer, as ancient as time itself. Moved by the lady’s devotion, he offered to be their guide, and they…

In case you change your mind, you said. I know you won’t, but just in case, I’ll wait in Venice seven days.
You were right about one thing – I didn’t come back.

The way human beings speak is so heartbreaking to me – we never sound the way we want to sound. We’re always stopping ourselves in mid–sentence because we’re so terrified of saying the wrong thing. Speaking is a kind of misery.

Dating her isn’t like dating boys back in California. There’s no rushed franticness to their kissing, no frenzied hurry towards conclusions or easy answers in the back of cars or on squeaky mattresses.

I remember the way I would wait for you to arrive with kibble and a box full of beer. How I’d scratch the empties, desperate to hear you make the sound that you found for me.

You are too theological, too gloomy. You have made even the devil religious! “Where do you live, good-wyf, and how is the minister?” he said to the witch when he met her on the high road. You have burnt all the witches. We have left them alone.

But I'll turn into God Himself and then you'll come to me!
Well I will not believe in you and then where will you be?

more.’

“I’ll be fine. It’s not getting any better and it’s not getting any worse. At least this way I get to see him, be around him. We’re still best friends. We’ll always…” He clears his throat. “We’ll always be best friends.” It’s like he’s trying not to add, ‘And nothing