Debore

“Why don't we have a little game? Let's pretend that we're human beings, and that we're actually alive.”
― John Osborne, Look Back in Anger

“Perhaps I am his hope. But then she is his present. And if she is his present, I am not his present. Therefore, I am not, and I wonder why no-one has noticed I am dead and taken the trouble to bury me. For I am utterly collapsed. I lounge with glazed eyes, or weep tears of sheer weakness.

All people seem criminally irrelevant. I ignore everyone and everything, and, if crossed or interrupted in my decay, hate. Nature is only the irking weather and flowers crude reminders of stale states of being.”
― Elizabeth Smart, By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept

“Love me, Love me, I cried to the rocks and the trees, And Love me, they cried again, but it was only to tease. Once I cried Love me to the people, but they fled like a dream, And when I cried Love to my friend, she began to scream. Oh why do they leave me, the beautiful people, and only the rocks remain, To cry Love me, as I cry Love me, and Love me again.”
― Stevie Smith, Selected Poems of Stevie Smith

“I've always loved high style in low company.”
― Anita Loos