And quiet is the thought of you
The file on you complete
Except what we forgot to do
A thousand kisses deep
And quiet is the thought of you
The file on you complete
Except what we forgot to do
A thousand kisses deep
Not much chance, completely cut loose from purpose, he was a young man riding a bus through North Carolina on the way to somewhere and it began to snow and the bus stopped at a little café in the hills and the passengers entered. He sat at the counter with the others, he ordered and the food arrived. The meal was particularly good and the coffee. The waitress was unlike the women he had known. She was unaffected, there was a natural humour which came from her. The fry cook said crazy things. The dishwasher in back, laughed, a good clean pleasant laugh. The young man watched the snow through the windows. He wanted to stay in that café forever. The curious feeling swam through him that everything was beautiful there, that it would always stay beautiful there. Then the bus driver told the passengers that it was time to board. The young man thought, I'll just stay here, I'll just stay here. But then he rose and followed the others onto the bus. He found his seat and looked at the café through the bus window. Then the bus moved off, down a curve, downward, out of the hills. The young man looked straight forward. He heard the other passengers speaking of other things, or they were reading or trying to sleep. They had not noticed the magic. The young man put his head to one side, closed his eyes, pretended to sleep. There was nothing else to do. Just to listen to the sound of the engine, the sound of the tires in the snow.
People love simple and preposterous lies.
They much prefer them to the truth. Truth is elusive. Difficult to discover. Infinitely nuanced. Hard to hold onto.
Each tiny bit of truth comes at a high price: A love lost. A marriage ruined. A business bankrupt. Money wasted. And a sorry soul burning on some ash pit in Hell. Nor does truth make you feel good. Like a magnifying mirror, it shows blemishes. You squirm in your seat when you see it. Often, you want to turn off the lights.
Not so with myth. It comes right over to you, fawns over you, airbrushes your photo, and botoxes your face. It flatters you with weak light and strong angles. It pretends you are the noble master and it is merely the humble slave… willing to do your bidding.“Life can’t be all bad when for ten dollars you can buy all the Beethoven sonatas and listen to them for ten years."
-William F. Buckley Jr.,“The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it’s profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theater.”
A bullet must have passed through your heart when you were very young, causing you to bleed out slowly, over things and lovers and every white surface that you had ever come across.
The amazing thing is that even after we've fallen, we'd still get in line to do it again.
The way to love someone is to lightly run your finger over that person’s soul until you find a crack, and then gently pour your love into that crack.
Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don’t always like, but you fall for them anyway.
“I've suffered loss in my career for not being obedient.
Like any dealer he was watching for the card
That is so high and wild
He'll never need to deal another