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Myth Conceptions
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Lemony Snicket
“It is likely I will die next to a pile of things I was meaning to read.”
Lemony Snicket

Patrick Rothfuss
“Close your mouth, E'lir Kvothe, or I will feel obliged to put some vile tonic in it.”
Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind
tags: arwyl

Buddy Wakefield
“We can stick anything into the fog
and make it look like a ghost
but tonight
let us not become tragedies.
We are not funeral homes
with propane tanks in our windows,
lookin’ like cemeteries.
Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go.
Let go.

Tonight
let’s turn our silly wrists so far backwards
the razor blades in our pencil tips
can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside.
Step into this
with your airplane parts.
Move forward
and repeat after me with your heart:

“I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.”

Make love to me
like you know I am better
than the worst thing I ever did.
Go slow.
I’m new to this.
But I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop
without jumping.
I have realized

that the moon
did not have to be full for us to love it,
that we are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it,
that if my heart
really broke
every time I fell from love
I’d be able to offer you confetti by now.

But hearts don’t break,
y’all,
they bruise and get better.
We were never tragedies.
We were emergencies.
You call 9 – 1 – 1.
Tell them I’m having a fantastic time.”
Buddy Wakefield

John Green
“Какво друго? Тя е красива. Никога няма да се умориш да я гледаш. Нито пък се налага да се тревожиш дали не е по-умна от теб: защото със сигурност е така. Обичам я. Такъв късмет е, Ван Хутен, че я обичам. Защото, старче, нямаш право на избор дали да бъдеш наранен - сам можеш да избереш единствено кой да те нарани. Аз съм доволен от избора си. Дано и тя да е доволна от своя.”
John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Mikhail Bulgakov
“Is that vodka?" Margarita asked weakly.
The cat jumped up in his seat with indignation.
"I beg pardon, my queen," he rasped, "Would I ever allow myself to offer vodka to a lady? This is pure alcohol!”
Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita

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