Learn from the mistakes of others. You can never live long enough to make them all yourself.
She’s something odd and uncertain, half of her was made of stars, full of death and filled with light; her other half was made of scars, full of life and filled with darkness.
She was transparent, heartbreaking. I would be afraid to be so vulnerable. I’d spent the last three years trying to build up some kind of a skin, so I wouldn’t drip with blood every time I brushed up against something.
Just simple days. Simple days of laughing lots and breathing deep and loving with my whole heart and feeling that love back. That’s all I’m really looking for now.
We are all poets or babies in the middle of the night, struggling with being.
Martin Amis, London Fields