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“Sometimes we get sad about things and we don't like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don't know why we are sad, so we say we aren't sad but we really are.”
― The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
― The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
“Sadness gives depth. Happiness gives height. Sadness gives roots. Happiness gives branches. Happiness is like a tree going into the sky, and sadness is like the roots going down into the womb of the earth. Both are needed, and the higher a tree goes, the deeper it goes, simultaneously. The bigger the tree, the bigger will be its roots. In fact, it is always in proportion. That's its balance.”
― Everyday Osho: 365 Daily Meditations for the Here and Now
― Everyday Osho: 365 Daily Meditations for the Here and Now
“I clinked my bottle against his. “To being the only girl a
guy with no standards doesn’t want to sleep with.” I said,
taking a swig.
“Are you serious?” he asked, pulling the bottle from my
mouth. When I didn’t recant, he leaned toward me. “First of
all…I have standards. I’ve never been with an ugly woman.
Ever. Second of all, I wanted to sleep with you. I thought
about throwing you over my couch fifty different ways, but I
haven’t because I don’t see you that way anymore. It’s not
that I’m not attracted to you, I just think you’re better than
that.”
I couldn’t hold back the smug smile that crept across my
face. “You think I’m too good for you.”
He sneered at my second insult. “I can’t think of a single
guy I know that’s good enough for you.”
― Beautiful Disaster
guy with no standards doesn’t want to sleep with.” I said,
taking a swig.
“Are you serious?” he asked, pulling the bottle from my
mouth. When I didn’t recant, he leaned toward me. “First of
all…I have standards. I’ve never been with an ugly woman.
Ever. Second of all, I wanted to sleep with you. I thought
about throwing you over my couch fifty different ways, but I
haven’t because I don’t see you that way anymore. It’s not
that I’m not attracted to you, I just think you’re better than
that.”
I couldn’t hold back the smug smile that crept across my
face. “You think I’m too good for you.”
He sneered at my second insult. “I can’t think of a single
guy I know that’s good enough for you.”
― Beautiful Disaster
“She had loved him for such a long time, she thought. How was it that she did now know him at all?”
― Clockwork Prince
― Clockwork Prince
“I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.”
―
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.”
―
Brit’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Brit’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
325 books
|
45 friends
410 books
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138 friends
11 books
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45 friends
214 books
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28 friends
408 books
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44 friends
831 books
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11 friends
437 books
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151 friends
464 books
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146 friends
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