When I realize where I stand in this part of the world, I feel so little to be me. How could I dare say - control and gain power.
after many many many days, i concluded that sun signs didn't have to match with a person's personality- thay could be vunerable to a million things like anybody else. Only basic traits match, nothing specific.
What I termed love was somehow crazy, too sweet and yet crazy !
“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star.
It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago.
Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.”
― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun
I said, with some gleam in my eyes
" isnt it a beautiful quote ?"
' maybe it is ' he said
he leaned down and looked at her lifeless face and kissed her , soft and true on her lips. she tasted dusty and sweet. she tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist's suit collection. he kissed him long and soft, and when she pulled herself away, she touched his mouth with her fingers...She did not say goodbye. She was incapable, and after a few more minutes at his side, she was able to tear herself from the ground. It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on...
“When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time -- the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of her that are gone. Just when the day comes -- when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that she's gone, forever -- there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.”
― John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany
One day , I suddenly realized...that nobody lives for anybody. They live, laugh and love for themselves. They forget the times . The memories erase away and some fine beads of shrilling silence sets its birthmark upon your eye. It baffles me when I try to differentiate between reality and uncertainty- growing up after all isn't all that beautiful . Why do relationships fall apart? why do people lose the human touch ? just why ?
everyone does someday fall in love with something, why isn't there any more sincerity ?
I shiver and shiver and shiver all night....lay in a single bare sheet, under his chizzled neck line ; a smell of Ralph Lauren's cologne over me, around me , in me . why do we love? and then go our ways? why cant we be friends who never depart until death? why is there death? why do we become like the 2 banks of river- that never meet yet run along .why do they love this much, seep down and then smack you awake?
“The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.”
― Elie Wiesel
They grind u , churn u and cripple the tiniest bit of u...they leave nothing but fine white sand , which could hardly be felt if it cut through your face. love never dies a natural death, it dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. it dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. it dies of illness and wounds;it dies of weariness,of witherings ,of tarnishings.And one day, before the final solution- your enitre life flases before your eyes. How do I manage to know and live and be fearless if I knew I loved you ?
“Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.”
― Haruki Murakami
In my part of the world, at the dead of the night and 4 papers tomorrow...I agressively sit down to solve one such thing , one question - What did I term 'Love' as ?
reading millions of books, articles , view points and listening to billions of stories. I haven't really been sure what love is all about.If it's the sunshine or dark clouds or is it what i have based my mental theories on?
Love to me is/ was / shall be :
So would it matter, if the life filled with mediocrity ?
oh god !
Probably, i should go to sleep now .
after many many many days, i concluded that sun signs didn't have to match with a person's personality- thay could be vunerable to a million things like anybody else. Only basic traits match, nothing specific.
What I termed love was somehow crazy, too sweet and yet crazy !
“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star.
It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago.
Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.”
― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun
I said, with some gleam in my eyes
" isnt it a beautiful quote ?"
' maybe it is ' he said
he leaned down and looked at her lifeless face and kissed her , soft and true on her lips. she tasted dusty and sweet. she tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist's suit collection. he kissed him long and soft, and when she pulled herself away, she touched his mouth with her fingers...She did not say goodbye. She was incapable, and after a few more minutes at his side, she was able to tear herself from the ground. It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on...
“When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time -- the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of her that are gone. Just when the day comes -- when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that she's gone, forever -- there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.”
― John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany
One day , I suddenly realized...that nobody lives for anybody. They live, laugh and love for themselves. They forget the times . The memories erase away and some fine beads of shrilling silence sets its birthmark upon your eye. It baffles me when I try to differentiate between reality and uncertainty- growing up after all isn't all that beautiful . Why do relationships fall apart? why do people lose the human touch ? just why ?
everyone does someday fall in love with something, why isn't there any more sincerity ?
I shiver and shiver and shiver all night....lay in a single bare sheet, under his chizzled neck line ; a smell of Ralph Lauren's cologne over me, around me , in me . why do we love? and then go our ways? why cant we be friends who never depart until death? why is there death? why do we become like the 2 banks of river- that never meet yet run along .why do they love this much, seep down and then smack you awake?
“The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.”
― Elie Wiesel
They grind u , churn u and cripple the tiniest bit of u...they leave nothing but fine white sand , which could hardly be felt if it cut through your face. love never dies a natural death, it dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. it dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. it dies of illness and wounds;it dies of weariness,of witherings ,of tarnishings.And one day, before the final solution- your enitre life flases before your eyes. How do I manage to know and live and be fearless if I knew I loved you ?
“Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.”
― Haruki Murakami
In my part of the world, at the dead of the night and 4 papers tomorrow...I agressively sit down to solve one such thing , one question - What did I term 'Love' as ?
reading millions of books, articles , view points and listening to billions of stories. I haven't really been sure what love is all about.If it's the sunshine or dark clouds or is it what i have based my mental theories on?
Love to me is/ was / shall be :
- friendship
- fellowship
- laughter
What makes u known to such duality of life is when u know , that darkness isnt the absence of light ; its not the absence of sunshine but the absence of 'him' .
Nothingness isnt the absence of god, its a dilated belief.
Heat isnt the absence of cold , it's the absence of his laughter and that warm hug after a long day's work .
So would it matter, if the life filled with mediocrity ?
oh god !
Probably, i should go to sleep now .
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