crack

I always believed that If I__ not carrying at least a slight poetically painful crack in my heart I__e been cheated by nature.

...but the future is a teenage crackhead who makes shit up as he goes along.

Whatever makes you crazy is what you were created to crack. Whatever makes you sleepless is what you were born to succeed in. Don__ give up!

No one asks how or what I am doing. They could not care less. We__e all looking glasses, we girls, existing only to reflect their images back to them as they__ like to be seen. Hollow vessels of girls to be rinsed of our own ambitions, wants, and opinions, just waiting to be filled with the cool, tepid water of gracious compliance.A fissure forms in the vessel. I__ cracking open.

We too can repair our cracks with goldAnd glow again.Crazed by life,More beautiful than ever before.

How many of us readers say this quote and mean it. "If I knew what I know now life would be different"....

Life will hack off your head and shit down your neck every chance it gets. I've found that consuming drugs and booze, listening to music and always having an excuse in the best way to tip the scales.

Eyes and ears are two.Lungs and kidneys, too.I wonder thenwhy we're born with oneheart that skips a beat when hay is here,and beats quickly when you are near.One heart that cracks when you are far, lie to me and leave a scar.I wonder thenwhy we're born with oneheart that gets broken.Was I supposed to find you then?So your heart would make one plus one is twofor me andtwo for you.

Usually if you pray from the heart, you get an answer__he phone rings or the mail comes, and light gets in through the cracks, so you can see the next right thing to do. That__ all you need.

When it happens and it hits hard, we decide certain things, and realize there's truth in all those dark, lonely days" He had an instantaneous look about him,a glimmer and a glint over those eyes,he knew how the world worked,and took pleasure in its wickedness.He would give a dime or two to those sitting on the street,he would tell them things like:"It won't get any better,"and"Might as well use this to buy your next fix,"and finally"It's better to die high than to live sober,"His suit was pressed nicely, with care and respect,like the kind a corpse wears,he'd say that was his way of honoring the dead,of always being ready for the oncoming train,I liked him,he never wore a fake smileand he was always ready to tell a story about how andwhen"We all wake up alone," he said once,"Oftentimes even when sleeping next to someone, we wake up before them and they are still asleep and suddenly we are awake, and alone."I didn't see him for a few days,a few days later it felt like it'd been weeks,those weeks drifted apart from one another,like leaves on a pond's surface,and became like months.And then I saw him and I asked him where he'd been,he said,"I woke up alone one day, just like any other, and I decided I didn't like it anymore.

Everything I have become,everything I will ever accomplishcannot compare to my mostimpressive feat:I have loved youfiercelyand assiduouslywith the very marrowinside my bones. So that when I die, they can crack them to findyou there. So that when I die, they can open me upand see your name tattooed on the wall of my heart.So that when I die, my epitaph will neither commemoratewho I wasnor what I did, but will read:__he loved.And loved. And loved.__nd so, I smile now,because that is no small thing.

Marketing is so powerful that it can make even an extremely untalented musician a one-hundred-hits wonder.

He was like one of those pictures full of small errors, the kind you could only pick out by searching the image from every angle, and even then, a few always slipped by. On the surface, Eli seemed perfectly normal, but now and then Victor would catch a crack, a sideways glance, a moment when his roommate's face and his words, his look and his meaning, would not line up. Those fleeting slices fascinated Victor. It was like watching two people, one hiding in the other's skin. And their skin was always too dry, on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath.

A crack on the road does not terminate the journey

He stood in a room, looking around, seeing thousands of himself. He banged the walls made of mirrors, but they wouldn't break. Thier laugh filled his heart and with fear, he curled up and sat there. And then She came out of nowhere and wrapped her arm around him. She held his hand, together they got up and walked towards a wall. He raised his head and looked at the reflections, but all he saw there was only him. She turned and smiled at him and touched the wall. It cracked and shattered into pieces. She inside him broke all the walls around him. He was free, he was not held and haunted by his reflections anymore.

God gives the nuts, but he does not crack them.

I don__ mind crack,_ I said. __ like crack as much as the next man. But it__ not doing a thing for my nerves, and I already have a splitting headache_ I say, I don__ suppose those heroin dealers carry Anadin or acetaminophen or anything like that, do they?_ __ think they just have heroin, Charlie.

Sometimes Geraldine feels like she can drive forever. Maybe that__ partially why she took a job at Milo General Motors. Driving is the best means of escape that the human race has, at least, that__ her opinion. She__ never had the guts to try drugs before, both because her sister was a junkie in the last few months she knew her, and because she__ heard the overdose horror stories, seen 'Requiem for a Dream', smelled the vapours of a meth lab that Julia__ boyfriend built, heard the crunching glass of crack vials and heroine needles when they happen to break. Even this alone is too surreal, not to mention that if she were high or tripping on acid or whatever the drug of choice may be, this would give the ghosts more power to morph into something even more nightmarish than they already are.