I see that there will be no end to imperfection, or to doing things the wrong way. Even if you grow up, no matter how hard you scrub, whatever you do, there will always be some other stain or spot on your face or stupid act, somebody frowning.
it sucks being the ugly quiet rude sarcastic emotionally unstable friend with the attention span of a goldfish
i’ve never read something so accurate
It’s enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment.
A paradise: whose skies with the color of hell flames, but a paradise still…
Love is madness, I tell you.
When I saw you by day, you lit up
my world and singed me with your
flame as I approached: so you
became the sun to me.
When my mind drifted at night,
thoughts of you swayed my soul
from afar, tugging gently on the
tides of my heart: and you became
And when you walked all over me
and rendered me the earth beneath
your feet. I knew it could only
mean I was the world to you.
Oh what delusions and madness
this thing called love.
- Shakieb Orgunwall
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?
We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle-Earth.
- George R. R. Martin