Beau Quotes

Because, if you could love someone, and keep loving them, without being loved back . . . then that love had to be real. It hurt too much to be anything else.

One day, whether you are 14, 28 or 65, you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die. However, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find–– is they are not always with whom we spend our lives

It is a frightening thought, that in one fraction of a moment you can fall in the kind of love that takes a lifetime to get over.

She was unstoppable. Not because she did not have failures or doubts, bit because she continued on despite them.

Sunsets are proof that endings can often be beautiful too.

Listen to me, your body is not a temple. Temples can be destroyed and desecrated. Your body is a forest—thick canopies of maple trees and sweet scented wildflowers sprouting in the underwood. You will grow back, over and over, no matter how badly you are devastated.

Some people are magic, and others are just the illusion of it.

Kiss me until I forget how terrified I am of everything wrong with my life.

Beautiful. Crushingly so. You look like the rest of my life.

Human beings are made of water–- we were not designed to hold ourselves together rather run freely like oceans like rivers

I was very aware that you were a girl, Ash. I was just scared because the one person in the world who knew every secret I'd ever had also happened to be the most beautiful girl I'd ever known. My feelings for you were scary as Hell.

She started walking toward me and perfect white teeth caught her full bottom lip between them. I’d fantasized about those lips way too many times. She’d barely covered up her long tanned legs with a pair of shorts that made me want to go to church this Sunday just to thank God for creating her.

I want to fall to sleep with you, and I could care less whether it is in layers upon layers of clothing or only our skin - all I really want is to wake up not knowing where I end and you begin.

Self love is an ocean and your heart is a vessel. Make it full, and any excess will spill over into the lives of the people you hold dear. But you must come first.

No, I do not want to be loved unconditionally. I want to be shown when I am treating you less than you deserve. I want you to leave if I ever start making you promises I do not see through. Love me for my flaws, yes, but don’t you dare ever allow them to hurt you.

Home is not where you are from, it is where you belong. Some of us travel the whole world to find it. Others, find it in a person.

I learned much too late that what you called love was nothing but a desperate and irrational fear of a life lived alone.

The one thing I know for sure is that feelings are rarely mutual, so when they are, drop everything, forget belongings and expectations, forget the games, the two days between texts, the hard to gets because this is it, this is what the entire world is after and you’ve stumbled upon it by chance, by accident––so take a deep breath, take a step forward, now run, collide like planets in the system of a dying sun, embrace each other with both arms and let all the rules, the opinions and common sense crash down around you. Because this is love kid, and it’s all yours. Believe me, you're in for one hell of a ride, after all––this is the one thing I know for sure.

There’s a corner of my heart that is yours. And I don’t mean for now, or until I’ve found somebody else, I mean forever. I mean to say that whether I fall in love a thousand times over or once or never again, there’ll always be a small quiet place in my heart that belongs only to you.

Hearts aren't handcuffs and people aren't prisons. When you feel it's time for you to leave, you leave. You neither need to wait to be released, nor ask for permission.

I’m tired of trying to fill up my empty spaces with things I don’t need and people I don’t like.

Some goodbyes are not ends but releases.

She'd barely covered up her long, tan legs in a pair of shorts that made me want to go to church on Sunday just to thank God for creating her. - Beau

I’ve always been enchanted by the endings of things. Series finales and sunsets. Last paragraphs and encores. I think for the way they remind me that losing something you love isn’t always sad and heartbreaking, but sometimes breathtaking and beautiful.

UncondiTional love is a beauTiful Thing. JusT be sure To give iT after your conditions have been meT :P

Hold onto me baby. I'm going to take care of you." The raspy need in his voice only made me more desperate.

I am awfully sentimental. Of books, belongings, people, places. It matters very little how positive or negative the experience was. If it shared some meaningful time in my life, I’ll have trouble letting go.

Be careful. There are people out there who will look at your love only as a place to put their pain.

Beau’s arms slipped around my waist. I knew I should step away but I couldn’t make myself. This was home. Being in his arms like this was where I found peace.

Love is neither owed nor earned. It either is or it’s not. I gave you the world. But you wanted the stars.

You couldn't hide from bad things and pretend they didn't exist–that left you with a dream world, and dream worlds eventually crumbled. You had to face the truth. And then decide what you wanted.

He shook his head, just looking at me. - "What?" I asked. - "Nothing" he said. - "Why are you looking at me like that?" Augustus half smiled. "Because you`re beautiful. I enjoy looking at beautiful people, and I decided a while ago not to deny myself the simpler pleasures of existence." A brief awkward silence ensued. Augustus plowed through: "I mean, particularly given that, as you so deliciously pointed out, all of this will end in oblivion and everything." I kind of scoffed or sighed or exhaled in a way that was vaguely coughy and then said, "I`m not beau-" - "You are like a millennial Natalie Portman. Like V for Vendetta Natalie Portman." - "Never seen it." - "Really?" he asked. "Pixie-haired gorgeous girl dislikes authority and can`t help but fall for a boy she knows is trouble. It`s your autobiography, so far as I can tell." His every syllable flirted. Honestly, he kind of turned me on. I didn`t even know that guys could turn me on - not, like, in real life.

Le plus beau vêtement qui puisse habiller une femme, ce sont les bras de l'homme qu'elle aime.

I'm not interested in light little flings, skin-deep attractions, or long loveless marriages. With you, I only want raw, full-blooded connection, to share a bond full of passion and breathtaking adventure. After all, love is not a pastime but a privilege.

It's not that you left. I'm okay with that. I've learned to accept it. It's that it was too damn easy. It's that you didn't think twice.

Girl, there ain't a boy in this town who can hold a candle to Beau Vincent with his shirt off.

It was hard to be honest, to open up, and reveal something that sounded crazy. Because once you told someone the truth, that person had a piece of you—and they could belittle it, destroy it. They could turn your confession into a wound that never healed.

A relationship should not be measured in months or years. It's the calibre of the memories that matter. Their impact, their permanence, and the degree to which they change you. I've had relationships lasting years I can now scarcely recollect, and hours with others that feel like infinities.

If I'd ever taken the time to wonder about my soul being as black as this town seemed to believe, I knew the moment Ashton stepped out of her little white Jetta looking like an angel from Heaven that my soul was damned to Hell.

There are a few things in life so beautiful they hurt: swimming in the ocean while it rains, reading alone in empty libraries, the sea of stars that appear when you’re miles away from the neon lights of the city, bars after 2am, walking in the wilderness, all the phases of the moon, the things we do not know about the universe, and you.

What a sad thought it is, that some of us will surrender and settle down long before we have met the person we are supposed to love.

Listen.” The voice is extremely loud, and I am forced to hold the telephone away from my ear. “I don’t know who you are, or why you have Jack’s phone, but he is my boyfriend, and—” Boyfriend? What is a boyfriend? Perhaps it is something like a beau. “Is he engaged to you, then?” I hope not. “What? No. Of course not.” “Oh, what a relief. He is my true love, and you do not sound very nice.” “What? Listen, you . . .” And then, strangely enough, she calls me a female dog.

My heart is not captured easily. I am disinterested in small talk, disillusioned with love, and too focused on my dreams and aspirations to lend anybody my attention for long.

Often, when we have a crush, when we lust for a person, we see only a small percentage of who they really are. The rest we make up for ourselves. Rather than listen, or learn, we smother them in who we imagine them to be, what we desire for ourselves, we create little fantasies of people and let them grow in our hearts. And this is where the relationship fails. In time, the fiction we scribble onto a person falls away, the lies we tell ourselves unravel and soon the person standing in front of you is almost unrecognisable, you are now complete strangers in your own love. And what a terrible shame it is. My advice: pay attention to the small details of people, you will learn that the universe is far more spectacular an author than we could ever hope to be.

La vérité c'est comme la lumière, aveugle. Le mensonge, au contraire, est un beau crépuscule qui met chaque objet en valeur.

Falling for a person isn’t a process. You can’t plan for it in advance, or anticipate its arrival. Love strikes in single moments. Anywhere. Anytime. Some day you catch them gardening in the sun, or singing dreadfully in the shower, and you think, Oh, I could spend all my life with you

I never imagined you'd be so difficult," he muttered. "Maybe that's why you're supposed to meet me when I'm unconscious. So I don't burst your bubble right away.

Beau, will you please watch the entrance for us?" "What should I do if I see anyone suspicious?" "Kick a car," Iain said. "Kick a car?" "To set off the alarm." "Gotcha," Beau said. "Good thinking.

Beau's gaze made my cheeks flush. A pleased grin touched his lips and I suddenly wanted to know how those lips would feel pressed against mine. I couldn't take my eyes off them. Even when his smile vanished I continued staring at his mouth. "You're gonna have to stop doing that Ash," Beau whispered huskily and closed the space between us. His body was suddenly pressed against mine. I managed to shake my fascination with his lips and gaze up into his eyes. He was staring down at me with a hungry gleam I wasn't accustomed to seeing. But I liked it. I liked it a lot. "Ash, I'm trying real hard to be good. Good isn't my thing but Sawyers important to me. Please remember I've got limits and you studying my mouth like you want a taste is pushing me dangerously close to the edge of those limits.

I’m beginning to recognise that real happiness isn’t something large and looming on the horizon ahead, but something small, numerous and already here. The smile of someone you love. A decent breakfast. The warm sunset. Your little everyday joys all lined up in a row.

The act of you leaving was just the full stop at the end of a terrible sentence. Fact is, I lost you long before you ever left.

But how can you love a person who is not whole? Because you, like the moon, are not only beautiful when full. In all of your phases and fractions and ivory-white pieces, I love you.

We sit in silence and watch the stars, I suppose because there are no words, not in all the languages on earth, that can properly describe the feeling of being in love. And perhaps those little burning lights out there in the dark, are the closest we come to something that does.

In the night, I am kept awake by the endless chatter of my inner self. I hear it speak softly of old hurts and fondly of past loves, while its demands and anxieties resound throughout me in multitudes. I could be calm and composed all day long, but the moment it is dark, my mind riots.

If you’re with her and you wish you were elsewhere then leave. One of the cruellest things you can do to a person is make them feel like home when to you they’re only temporary. We all deserve adoration and undistracted attention. We all deserve to feel complete. If you can’t give her your whole heart, then don’t you dare hold it hostage.

I will never ask you to fight for me. I have neither the insecurity nor the arrogance to believe that wars must be won and lost to earn or keep my love.

She was unstoppable. not because she did not have failures or doubts. but because she continued on despite them.

I'm looking for freedom with a side of restraining order, but everything just comes with bacon.

It hurts my head to think of how many things had to happen for our paths to intersect. Of all those numberless little fortunes that led me to you. A broken alarm clock, a delayed train, a sudden downpour, and there we were. You and I, sharing coffee, our whole lives ahead of us.

Why couldn't I have just made it home without seeing them? I wasn't in the mood to play good freaking Samaritan to Beau and his trashy girlfriend.

She said 'never forget me' ...as if the coast could forget the ocean ...or the lung could forget the breath ...or the earth could forget the sun.

Rien n'est plus beau qu'un corps nu. Le plus beau vêtement qui puisse habiller une femme ce sont les bras de l'homme qu'elle aime. Mais, pour celles qui n'ont pas eu la chance de trouver ce bonheur, je suis là.

I had learned even loneliness could leave an absence if it had lived in you long enough.

You were a risk, a mistery, and the most certain thing I'd ever known.

I cannot stand the words Get over it. All of us are under such pressure to put our problems in the past tense. Slow down. Don’t allow others to hurry your healing. It is a process, one that may take years, occasionally, even a lifetime — and that’s OK.

I think the beating in our hearts was put there to remind us that even when we are alone in the world, we march on. That even in the enormous dark and quiet, we always have someone to lean on, to embrace and turn to. That even when we have no one else, we always have ourselves.

Blue smiled. He had one of those devastatingly charming smiles that made you hate him even more when you noticed it. It was like he was fighting dirty.

I tend to be most interested in the kinds of people that don't sweeten or dilute themselves for the sake of people's tastes.Who never soften the blow for who they are.I prefer the people that i connect with to be full strength and searing hot. And able to rouse my weary,idle heart.

Philosophers have often held dispute As to the seat of thought in man and brute For that the power of thought attends the latter My friend, thy beau, hath made a settled matter, And spite of dogmas current in all ages, One settled fact is better than ten sages. (O,Tempora! O,Mores!)

Everybody oughta have a dog," he said thoughtfully, his hand still scratching Beau. "Dogs teach you love and kindness. They remind you what's important." He nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "A life ain't much of a life without a dog in it, s'what I always said.

the one good thing about falling apart is how we are never put back the same

You completely redefine my idea of what love is and should be. That it needn't be possessive, volatile or detrimental to your well-being, but can be selfless, gentle and consistent -- and should empower you to pursue your passions. That it should balance and enrich a life, not tear it to pieces.

People are oceans. You cannot know them by their surface.

A naked blade hid nothing, feared nothing. She wanted to be like that. Because that was how you found yourself, created yourself. You didn't hide. You didn't wait for the perfect moment to settle on you like a butterfly, like magic. You went out and made magic. Made your own wishes come true.

Sin looked over at Boyd through sleepy looking, heavy lidded eyes. "Cállate la boca, blanquito." Hearing Sin speak Spanish didn't help any; he sounded especially sexy when he was drawling those words fluidly in his low, velvety voice. "What does that mean?" he asked, half with an edge and half just curious. Full lips turned up into a small smirk and Sin raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to the window. "It's a secret." "Putain de beau gosse," Boyd muttered under his breath in mild annoyance, flipping forward several pages.

They said every year was a gift, not a guarantee, and ought to be celebrated accordingly.

Can I get a lock for my tent? Bears can't unzip tents, Lana. Well, chainsaw psychos who wander the woods looking for young girls all alone to chop up into pieces can. There are no chainsaw psychos! I can't believe you've never been camping. It's safe, Lana. I promise. Easy for you to say. You'll be snuggled up safely in the arms of Beau Vincent. I'm more than positive he could take on a black bear.

Quand j'arrive à la gare de l'Est, j'espère toujours secrètement qu'il y aura quelqu'un pour m'attendre. C'est con. J'ai beau savoir que ma mère est encore au boulot à cette heure-là et que Marc est pas du genre à traverser la banlieue pour porter mon sac, j'ai toujours cet espoir débile. [...] Je voudrais que quelqu'un m'attende quelque part... C'est quand même pas compliqué.

you are, always were, worth coming apart for

I want to stay," he admitted. "I haven't felt this way in a long time. I feel like ... like I came up from being underwater, and I can finally breathe. I don't want to stop feeling that way. That's how I know I have to leave.

The most important thing you will ever do in your life is learn to embrace your unique, honest self. A boundless, infinitely populated universe and there is nothing else here quite like you. This is your power. All those things that make you strange and different are what make you irreplaceable

and i've learned to love loneliness because unlike you it never leaves

It's interesting to note that the most kind and courageous souls you meet in life tend to be those who've faced the most cruelty and conflict. This vicious world might sharpen us like a blade, but whether we use that power to protect people or cause them pain is always our choice.

Le Chat Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux; Retiens les griffes de ta patte, Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux, Mêlés de métal et d'agate. Lorsque mes doigts caressent à loisir Ta tête et ton dos élastique, Et que ma main s'enivre du plaisir De palper ton corps électrique, Je vois ma femme en esprit. Son regard, Comme le tien, aimable bête, Profond et froid, coupe et fend comme un dard, Et, des pieds jusques à la tête, Un air subtil, un dangereux parfum, Nagent autour de son corps brun.

Henley squinted at her. "What about you?" Mira looked around, flustered, hair swinging heavily as she moved. "What about me what?" Henley sighed and let the chair thunk to the floor. "What role are you playing? Felix's underage girlfriend, Blue's obsession, or Freddie's princess?" "That's ... rude," she said. "It was rude when you asked me, too.

Avec l'amour maternel, la vie vous fait, à l'aube, une promesse qu'elle ne tient jamais. Chaque fois qu'une femme vous prend dans ses bras et vous serre sur son coeur, ce ne sont plus que des condoléances. On revient toujours gueuler sur la tombe de sa mère comme un chien abandonné. Jamais plus, jamais plus, jamais plus. Des bras adorables se referment autour de votre cou et des lèvres très douces vous parlent d'amour, mais vous êtes au courant. Vous êtes passé à la source très tôt et vous avez tout bu. Lorsque la soif vous reprend, vous avez beau vous jeter de tous côtés, il n'y a plus de puits, il n'y a que des mirages. Vous avez fait, dès la première lueur de l'aube, une étude très serrée de l'amour et vous avez sur vous de la documentation. Je ne dis pas qu'il faille empêcher les mères d'aimer leurs petits. Je dis simplement qu'il vaut mieux que les mères aient encore quelqu'un d'autre à aimer. Si ma mère avait eu un amant, je n'aurais pas passé ma vie à mourir de soif auprès de chaque fontaine. Malheureusement pour moi, je me connais en vrais diamants.

Birthdays were wretched, delicious things when you lived in Beau Rivage. The clock stuck midnight, and presents gave way to magic. Curses bloomed. Girls bit into sharp apples instead of birthday cake, chocked on the ruby-and-white slivers, and collapsed into enchanted sleep. Unconscious beneath cobweb canopies, frozen in coffins of glass, they waited for their princes to come. Or they tricked ogres, traded their voices for love, danced until their glass slippers cracked. A prince would awaken, roused by the promise of true love, and find he had a witch to destroy. A heart to steal. To tear from the rib cage, where it was cushioned by bloody velvet, and deliver it to the queen who demanded the princess's death. Girls became victims and heroines. Boys became lovers and murderers. And sometimes... they became both.

I'm swimming," Caspian announced. "Sort of. Do you think that will interfere with my mermaid search? If I fall into the ocean and I'm not drowning, do you think she'll bother to save me?" "I think your mermaid probably has a life," Wills said..."You can't count on her to be waiting around for you every day. So drowning on purpose makes you an idiot.

Freddie dropped down beside them, distressed. "Let go of her, Blue; that looks really bad." "Feel free to stop him," Mira said, "instead of frowning at me like a sad puppy." "Hey!" Freddie said, looking like a sadder puppy. "I'm not going to molest you," Blue said. "You're molesting my wrist," Mira said. "I don't want you touching me." "I didn't want you to knee me in the lungs, so I guess we're even.

You don't want to sit by me?" Rafe called to her with a grin. "No, I don't," Layla said. "I wouldn't sit by you if every other seat in the room was on fire." "Ouch." Rafe winced, then rebounded with a sleazy smile. "That would hurt me if I believed it. You know you're curious to go for a ride." "About as curious as I am to get syphilis," Layla snapped.

Mira, I'm about to be naked," Blue said as he whipped off his belt and tossed it on the floor. "So watch out. Well, in my underwear." "I've seen you in your bathing suit," Mira said. "It's the same thing." "It is not the same thing," Blue said. "When it's accompanied by seventies porn music, it's an X-rated strip show." Blue yanked off his shirt. "Freddie, you're kind of slow on the uptake. Eine kleine porn music, please." Freddie scrunched his forehead in distaste. "I don't want to plug my guitar in just so I can play some bow-chicka-wow-wow accompaniment to your strip show. Mira laughed. "Bow-chicka-what was that, Freddie?

So many fairy tales were about breaking taboos, and being punished for crossing lines you shouldn't have crossed. Touching a spindle you were forbidden to touch. Inviting a witch into your cottage, and accepting the shiny apples she brought you, even though you knew better, because you wanted them. And while most heroes or heroines managed to scratch or scheme their way out of peril, it was easier to avoid doing something stupid in the first place. Smarter, better, and infinitely less fraught with regret.

Come over here so I can wipe my hands on your shirt," she said, holding up her beer-sticky hands. Eyebrows raised in amusement, Blue did as she asked. He stood between her legs at the front of the car, his knees against the bumper. "Go for it," he said. Her wet fingers grazed the muscle of his abdomen as she fumbled to dry her hands on his T-shirt. Blue sucked in a breath when her hands brushed his skin, and something electric ran through her. A flush burned her cheeks. She made herself focus on the artwork on his T-shirt. "Now the ick is on you, where it belongs," she said. "You are a very nasty princess," Blue said.

It wouldn't matter," he says. "If we were in the same world, the one where Kincaid was in love with you, I'd still be here. If you wanted me, I'd be here." "Why?" I ask. He hides a grin and runs his thumb over my lips. "I'm not sure the world and me are as complicated as you think, Natalie. I didn't mean to choose you or anything. I just know if I only get to build one porch in my life, I'd like it to be yours, and if there's one person I never have to hurt or disappoint, I'd want that to be you too.

I'm starting to think it was a mistake to introduce you to the whole gang," he said. Rafe was still hitting on Layla; Layla was fighting with him, insisting that fairies didn't turn good people into monsters, they just exposed the monstrousness that was already there; and Freddie was doing his best to play peacemaker, or etiquette coach from 1850, or whatever he thought he was doing. Henley was watching the group from outside, leaning against the window, smoking a cigarette. Viv was sawing into an apple tart with a masochistic grin on her face. "No wonder you're such a freak," Mira said finally.

Do you know where Blue is? Can you get him for me? Please?" "Frederick," Bliss said. "Do you always bring a sword to a pool party? You are familiar with the concept of rust, I hope." "I - yes, of course," Freddie said, looking as if he wasn't sure whom to answer first, but deferring to the fairy out of respect for his magical elders. "I have it in case there's trouble, and I need to decapitate Fel - er, someone. Anyone, rather. Anyone in need of decapitation." "Frederick, that is very disturbing," Bliss said. "I do hope you're joking." "Where's Blue?" Mira shouted.

Often, when we have a crush, when we lust for a person, we see only a small percentage of who they really are. The rest we make up for ourselves. Rather than listen, or learn, we smother them in who we imagine them to be, what we desire for ourselves, we create little fantasies of people and let them grow in our hearts. And this is where the relationship fails. In time, the fiction we scribble onto a person falls away, the lies we tell ourselves unravel and soon the person standing in front of you is almost unrecognizable, you are now complete strangers in your own love. And what a terrible shame it is. My advice: pay attention to the small details of people, you will learn that the universe is far more spectacular an author than we could ever hope to be.

Pentru că au sâni rotunzi, cu gurguie care se ridică prin bluză când le e frig, pentru că au fundul mare şi grăsuţ, pentru că au feţe cu trăsături dulci ca ale copiilor, pentru că au buze pline, dinţi decenţi şi limbi de care nu ţi-e silă. Pentru că nu miros a transpiraţie sau a tutun prost şi nu asudă pe buza superioară. Pentru că le zâmbesc tuturor copiilor mici care trec pe lângă ele. Pentru că merg pe stradă drepte, cu capul sus, cu umerii traşi înapoi şi nu răspund privirii tale când le fixezi ca un maniac. Pentru că trec cu un curaj neaşteptat peste toate servitutile anatomiei lor delicate. Pentru că în pat sunt îndrăzneţe şi inventive nu din perversitate, ci ca să-ţi arate că te iubesc. Pentru că fac toate treburile sâcâitoare şi mărunte din casă fără să se laude cu asta şi fără să ceară recunoştinţă. Pentru că nu citesc reviste porno şi nu navighează pe site-uri porno. Pentru că poartă tot soiul de zdrăngănele pe care şi le asortează la îmbrăcăminte după reguli complicate şi de neînţeles. Pentru că îşi desenează şi-şi pictează feţele cu atenţia concentrată a unui artist inspirat. Pentru că au obsesia pentru subţirime a lui Giacometti. Pentru că se trag din fetiţe. Pentru că-şi ojează unghiile de la picioare. Pentru că joacă şah, whist sau ping-pong fără sa le intereseze cine câştigă. Pentru că şofează prudent în maşini lustruite ca nişte bomboane, aşteptând să le admiri când sunt oprite la stop şi treci pe zebră prin faţa lor. Pentru că au un fel de-a rezolva probleme care te scoate din minţi. Pentru că au un fel de-a gândi care te scoate din minţi. Pentru că-ţi spun „te iubesc” exact atunci când te iubesc mai puţin, ca un fel de compensaţie. Pentru că nu se masturbează. Pentru că au din când în când mici suferinţe: o durere reumatică, o constipaţie, o bătătură, şi-atunci îţi dai seama deodată că femeile sunt oameni, oameni ca şi tine. Pentru că scriu fie extrem de delicat, colecţionând mici observaţii şi schiţând subtile nuanţe psihologice, fie brutal şi scatologic ca nu cumva să fie suspectate de literatură feminină. Pentru că sunt extraordinare cititoare, pentru care se scriu trei sferturi din poezia şi proza lumii. Pentru că le înnebuneşte „Angie” al Rolling-ilor. Pentru că le termină Cohen. Pentru că poartă un război total şi inexplicabil contra gândacilor de bucătărie. Pentru că până şi cea mai dură bussiness woman poartă chiloţi cu înduioşătoare floricele şi danteluţe. Pentru că e aşa de ciudat să-ntinzi la uscat, pe balcon, chiloţii femeii tale, nişte lucruşoare umede, negre, roşii şi albe, parte satinate, parte aspre, mirându-te ce mici suprafeţe au de acoperit. Pentru că în filme nu fac duş niciodată înainte de-a face dragoste, dar numai în filme. Pentru că niciodată n-ajungi cu ele la un acord în privinţa frumuseţii altei femei sau a altui bărbat. Pentru că iau viaţa în serios, pentru că par să creadă cu adevărat în realitate. Pentru că le interesează cu adevărat cine cu cine s-a mai cuplat dintre vedetele de televiziune. Pentru că ţin minte numele actriţelor şi actorilor din filme, chiar ale celor mai obscuri. Pentru că dacă nu e supus nici unei hormonizări embrionul se dezvoltă întotdeauna într-o femeie. Pentru că nu se gândesc cum să i-o tragă tipului drăguţ pe care-l văd în troleibuz. Pentru că beau porcării ca Martini Orange, Gin Tonic sau Vanilia Coke. Pentru că nu-ţi pun mâna pe fund decât în reclame. Pentru că nu le excită ideea de viol decât în mintea bărbaţilor. Pentru că sunt blonde, brune, roşcate, dulci, futeşe, calde, drăgălaşe, pentru că au de fiecare dată orgasm. Pentru că dacă n-au orgasm nu îl mimează. Pentru că momentul cel mai frumos al zilei e cafeaua de dimineaţă, când timp de o oră ronţăiţi biscuiţi şi puneţi ziua la cale. Pentru că sunt femei, pentru că nu sunt bărbaţi, nici altceva. Pentru că din ele-am ieşit şi-n ele ne-ntoarcem, şi mintea noastră se roteşte ca o planetă greoaie, mereu şi mereu, numai în jurul lor.

The difference between an ordinary life and an extraordinary life is only a matter of perspective. Pull the blinds. Look around you. It is a mad, mad world and you do not require ten digit bank accounts to immerse yourself in it. Travel down dusty roads without a destination in mind. Climb a mountain and scream out into the void. Kiss the hell out of a stranger. Skinny dip in a lake. Get lost and lose yourself (they are two separate things). Explore the wilderness (especially the one within). Think less of destiny and more of the moment right here. Because when you are old and ill with your loved ones around you, fame won't matter, nor will the extent of your wealth. You are the sum of the stories you can tell.

You're safe with me, Mira. And I'm safe with you." He kissed her again to prove it. And when the clock struck one - that lone, ominous tone hovering in the dark - they were still kissing. Her razor blade had snagged his shirt and nicked his chest, and they'd ended up lying in the grass, hidden inside a shadow, ignoring their names whenever someone called them. He traced her mouth again and again, like he still couldn't believe it was real. There would always be a part of him she couldn't know. A secret place where his heartbreak was stored, where lost innocence and regret filled the air like smoke. She had no desire to open that door ... but she didn't know if that would change one day. If the key would tempt her, if a fairy would manipulate her or she would just be curious. But she had to believe she could be strong enough to resist. That what she wanted - what they both wanted - mattered more than the path that had been laid out for them. She let her hand slip under his shirt to touch the heart mark on his back, and he brought her other hand to his lips, and kissed every finger he'd entrusted with the key. He was so much more than his curse, and she was so much more than the girl who could betray him. Together ... they could be anything.