sad-but-true

Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we're still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It's all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?At the very least we want a witness. We can't stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down.

While art thrives on the blazing colours of scandal, literature blossoms on the dark soil of tragedy.

...Come on let__ see the degree._ Katherine unrolled her scroll displaying a long declaration in Latin affixed with a red seal proclaiming her a Master of Art. __magine working for years to obtain a piece of paper we can hardly read _ Katherine joked. __nd to officially declare you have talent _ Suzy returned.

Evil influence is like a nicotine patch, you cannot help but absorb what sticks to you.

(The Mona Lisa), that really is the ugliest portrait I__e seen, the only thing that supposedly makes it famous is the mystery behind it,_ Katherine admitted as she remembered her trips to the Louvre and how she shook her head at the poor tourists crowding around to see a jaundiced, eyebrow-less lady that reminded her of tight-lipped Washington on the dollar bill. Surely, they could have chosen a better portrait of the First President for their currency?

Pops added,"you know, they say if you don't vote, you get the government you deserve.""And if you do, you never get the results you expected," (Katherine) replied.

After you die, a rare friend or family member may carry your memory throughout life. Most will forget you. As if you were never here.

Live joyfully this life. Once gone, who knows if we ever get it back. Atheists think we do not. Mystics say you will. Either way, chill.

Remember, you are as dispensable as the most indispensable king of kings, the mighty lord of silly worldly men.

Flowery tongues have thorny throats.

There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us, that everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow-that, in short, we are all going

Some ghost of myself still lived back in the days when we'd shared a bed and talked of the future. But that love we'd had and those selves we'd been were gone, placed in a box like old photographs and letters you'd never read again.

So while I was busy saving you from Hell,you were pushing me further to it; the poison murdering me well.

So it__ true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.

We want one class of persons to have a liberal education, and we want another class of persons, a very much larger class of necessity in every society, to forgo the privilege of a liberal education and fit themselves to perform specific difficult manual tasks.

Just _ isn__ giving up allowed sometimes? Isn__ it okay to say, __his really hurts, so I__ going to stop trying_?

She sighs and the small release of breath bothers me. This girl needs to be off doing things that make her happy. Not standing here with me, confused and torn. It__ just further proof that I__ no good to be around. I__ turning one of the happiest people I know into something she was never meant to be. I__ turning her into me.

I got my heart checked, report says it's perfectly normal, there is no trace of love in it