Houston

“I can appreciate that,” says Henry. He’s adding to the list. I look over his shoulder. Sex Pistols, the Clash, Gang of Four, Buzzcocks, Dead Kennedys, X, the Mekons, the Raincoats, the Dead Boys, New Order, the Smiths, Lora Logic, the Au Pairs, Big Black, Pil, the Pixies, the Breeders, Sonic Youth…
Henry, they’re not going to be able to get any of that up here.” He nods, and jots the phone number and address for Vintage Vinyl at the bottom of the sheet. “You do have a record player, right?”
My parents have one,” Bobby says. Henry winces.
What do you really like?” I ask Jodie. I feel as though she’s fallen out of the conversation during the male bonding ritual Henry and Bobby are conducting.
Prince,” she admits. Henry and I let out a big Whoo! And I start singing “1999” as loud as I can, and Henry jumps up and we’re doing a bump and grind across the kitchen. Laura hears us and runs off to put the actual record on and just like that, it’s a dance party.”
― Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler's Wife

“إنا لا نصاب بالحب مرتين. إن كيوبيد لا يطلق سهمين على نفس القلب. وصيفات الحب هن صديقات العمر: الإحترام والإعجاب والحنان، أما مولاهن العلوي في موكبه الملكي فلا يزورنا إلا مرة يمضي بعدها. فقد نميل إلى شخص، وقد نتعلق بشخص، وقد نولع بهذا أو ذاك، لكنا لا نحب مرة ثانية، إن الحب كالألعاب النارية لا يومض في السماء إلا مرة.”
― Jerome K. Jerome, Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow

“But that afternoon he asked himself, with his infinite capacity for illusion, if such pitiless indifference might not be a subterfuge for hiding the torments of love.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

“there are many hours and minutes between now and tomorrowand in any one of them-even in a minute,the house falls”
― Cervantes, Don Quixote