Under the ground seep the toxins of the population that lives above. If you have to, you will eat roots and earthworms. It is always night. Candles burn in lanterns made from tin cans. When it is nighttime up above, you can crawl out, but only for a little while. You feel ashamed of your matted hair, your torn clothes, the dirt on your face. Who would want to speak to you? They are all shiny and pretty. They have parents and house with gardens. What do you have? The earth. Whole handfuls of it. The lizard people with their slit eyes and scaly skin. Your loneliness. Your longing. . Francesca Lia Block
My heart only ever had one thought, one want. One need. Despite all, in spite of all... All my heart has ever wanted is you.
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Stephanie Laurens
Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one you want.
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Louisa May Alcott
Desiring another person is perhaps the most risky endeavor of all. As soon as you want somebody–really want him–it is as though you have taken a surgical needle and sutured your happiness to the skin of that person, so that any separation will now cause...
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Elizabeth Gilbert
Just because I'm not forever by your side doesn't mean that's not precisely where I want to be.
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Stephanie Laurens
…There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible–magic to make the sanest man go mad.
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Homer
More Quotes By Francesca Lia Block
I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and hear the songs in my hands.
What sexual preference do you hope she has?” “Happiness.” Isnt that cool?
My mother says that pain is hidden in everyone you see. She says try to imagine it like big bunches of flowers that everyone is carrying around with them. Think of your pain like a big bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone...
This was not a fearie tale. This was not the movies. This was life. It hurt more. It was excruciating. It was excruciatingly beautiful.
Stories are like genies... They can carry us into and though our sorrows. Sometimes they burn, sometimes they dance, sometimes they weep, sometimes they sing. Like genies, everyone has one. Like genies, sometimes we forget that we do. Our stories can set us free... When...
