Nothing’s perfect, the world’s not perfect, but it’s there for us, trying the best it can. That’s what makes it so damn beautiful.
How rarely did other people's faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your own innermost trembling thought?
You know, you only have a date with destiny tonight, my dear, and you must be prepared to be dressed as pretty as possible.
You know what music is? God's little reminder that there's something else besides us in this universe, a harmonic connection between all living beings, every where, even the stars.
— You stand on the beach and taste the salty smell of the wind that comes from the ocean, and inside you feel the warmth of never ending freedom, and on your lips the bitter, tear-soaked kiss of your lover.
— I have never been to the ocean.
— That can't be true! You have never ever been to the ocean?
— Never — ever!
Both of us are knocking on heavens door, drinking tequila — we are biting-the-dust experts — and you have never — ever been to the ocean! -
— Never — ever!
— Don't you know how it is when you arrive in heaven? In heaven that's all they talk about — the ocean — and how wonderful it is. They talk about the sunsets they have seen. They talk about how the sun turned blood-red before it set. And they talk about how they felt
when the sun was loosing its power, — and the cold that was coming from the ocean, while the rest of the fire was still glowing. And you -
You can't talk about it with them, since you have never been there! You will be a fucking outsider up there! And there is nothing we can do about it?
"I ought not to have listened to her," he confided to me one day.
"One never ought to listen to the flowers.
One should simply look at them and breathe their fragrance.
Mine perfumed all my planet.
But I did not know how to take pleasure in all her grace.
This tale of claws, which disturbed me so much, should only have filled my heart with tenderness and pity."
And he continued his confidences:
"The fact is that I did not know how to understand anything!
I ought to have judged by deeds and not by words.
She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me.
I ought never to have run away from her...
I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems.
Flowers are so inconsistent!
But I was too young to know how to love her …"
One time, when he was a child, in a power-failure, his mother had found and lit a last candle and there had been a brief hour of rediscovery, of such illumination that space lost its vast dimensions and drew comfortably around them, and they, mother and son, alone, transformed, hoping that the power might not come on again too soon....
— I love him.
— That's nonsense. Have you been in love before?
— There, you see. Then you can't know if you love him.
— We... danced.
— That doesn't mean anything.
— It does, too. We danced with one another. I know that I love him, because... because I know. It's right here. Inside of me. And you... You don't know have a clue about life. Not a clue. Because I have a boyfriend and you don't. You... old cow. We danced. We bought bus tickets. And we ate ice cream. And we shot for flowers. We slept in the same bed. We gazed at the moon. And I heard his heart beat.
I guess I could be pretty pissed of f about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life...