“She’s never where she is,” I said. “She’s only inside her head.”
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head.
I’ll sing if you like. Or else let’s go and sit in the dark in your study as we used to, and you’ll tell me about your depression… You have such suffering eyes. I’ll look into them and cry, and we’ll both feel better.
Anton Chekhov, Ivanov
She liked then to wander alone into strange and unfamiliar places. She discovered many a sunny, sleepy corner, fashioned to dream in. And she found it good to dream and to be alone and unmolested.
Kate Chopin, The Awakening
I dream. Sometimes I think that’s the only right thing to do. To dream, to live in the world of dreams. But it doesn’t last forever. Wakefulness always comes to take me back.
Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
Can I be blamed for wanting a real body, to put my arms around? Without it I too am disembodied. I can listen to my own heartbeat against the bedsprings…but there’s something dead about it, something deserted.
Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale
"You don’t have to destroy me. Do you? I’m only a woman who loves you and wants to do what you want to do. I’ve been destroyed two or three times already. You wouldn’t want to destroy me again, would you?"
It was the exact opposite
for me. At first all I
wanted was sex with her,
but soon I wanted more.
More sex, yes, in unusual
places, and all different kinds.
But that wasn’t all. I wanted
her to fill the empty spaces
Ellen Hopkins, Impulse
When I’m in turmoil, when I can’t think, when I’m exhausted and afraid and feeling very, very alone, I go for walks. It’s just one of those things I do. I walk and I walk and sooner or later something comes to me, something to make me feel less like jumping off a building.
Jim Butcher, Storm Front
She was an outcast, cast out by her own choices, an outsider with a pretty face. Like a rose, she may have
been beautiful to look at, but almost everyone only
knew the thorny side.
Victoria Kahler, Their Friend Scarlet
She put one hand on mine. “When someone is in your heart, they’re never truly gone. They can come back to you, even at unlikely times.”
Mitch Albom, For One More Day
She was usually in love with somebody, and, as her passion was never returned, she had kept all her illusions.
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
We are only lightly covered with buttoned cloth; and beneath these pavements are shells, bones and silence.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves