Gaige Bailey

“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols & the Anti Christ

“People have told me, really more times than I can remember, ever since I was a small boy, how lucky I was, but I have always felt as if I were suffering in Hell. It has seemed to me in fact that those who called me lucky were incomparably more fortunate than I.”
― Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

“On the Thursday before her [tenth] birthday, Abby brought the classroom twenty-five E.T. cupcakes as a reminder. Everyone ate them, which she thought was a good sign. On Saturday, she forced her parents to drive to Redwing Rollerway an hour early so they could set up. By 3:15 the private party room looked like E.T. had exploded all over the walls. There were E.T. balloons, E.T. tablecloths, E.T. party hats, snack-sized Reese's Pieces next to every E.T. paper plate, a peanut butter and chocolate ice cream cake with E.T.'s face on top, and on the wall behind her seat was Abby's most treasured possession that could not under any circumstances get soiled, stained, ripped, or torn: an actual E.T. movie poster her dad had brought home from the theater and given to her as a birthday present.

Finally, 3:30 rolled around.

No one came.”
― Grady Hendrix, My Best Friend's Exorcism

“The stranger had seen everything, he had been everywhere, he knew everything, and he forgot nothing. What another must study, he learned at a glance; there were no difficulties for him. He saw the world made; he saw Adam created; he saw Samson surge against the pillars and bring the temple down in ruins about him; he saw Caesar's death; he told of the daily life in heaven; he had seen the damned writhing in the red waves of hell; and he made us see all these things, and it was as if we were on the spot and seeing them with our own eyes. And we felt them, too, but there was no sign that they were anything to him beyond mere entertainments. Those visions of hell, those poor babes and women and girls and lads and men shrieking and supplicating in anguish - why, we could hardly bear it, but he was as bland about it as if it had been so many imitation rats in an artificial fire.”
― Mark Twain, The Mysterious Stranger