Janice Galloway Quotes

You would think there's a natural limit to tears: only so much the body can give at one sitting before it runs dry.

Needing people yet being afraid of them is wearing me out.

No matter how often I think I can't stand it anymore, I always do. There is no alternative. I don't fall, I don't foam at the mouth, faint, collapse or die. It's the same for all of us. You can't get out of the inside of your own head. Something keeps you going. Something always does.

No matter how dark the room gets I can always see. It looks emptier when I put the lights on so I don't do it if I can help it. Brightness disagrees with me: it hurts my eyes, wastes electricity and encourages moths, all sorts of things. I sit in the dark for a number of reasons.

It's asking for trouble to listen to music alone.

The phone is an instrument of intrusion into order. It is a threat to control. Just when you think you are alone and safe, the call could come that changes your life. Or someone else's. It makes the same flat, mechanical noise for everyone and gives no clues what's waiting there on the other end of the line. You can never be too careful.

I already read everything. I read poems and plays and novels and newspapers and comic books and magazines. I read tins in supermarkets and leaflets that come through the door, unsolicited mail. None of it lasts long and it doesn't give me answers. Reading too fast is not soothing.

God isn't fooled by mercenary goodness I told myself and went back to manic smiling.

Do what you want with life, you don't get another one. Never apologize, never explain. Stay light, stay free. Jealousy kills; it kills whatever it touches.

The whole point is that time passes. That things fade. He is already hard to remember. Look, I used to cry because I thought I'd forget. Then I knew that was ridiculous and cried because I remembered. But the truth is that one is the same as the other. Remembering and forgetting are the same bloody thing. He is not alive any more. That's all there is to know. There is no purpose to any of it. The point is there is no point.

There are split seconds in the morning between waking and sleep when you know nothing. Not just things missing like where or who you are, but nothing. The fact of being alive has no substance. No awareness of skin and bone, the trap inside the skull. For these split seconds you hover in the sky like Icarus. Then you remember

That was probably how religion worked. The triumph of loneliness over intelligence. And why not? Why shouldn’t religion be exactly the same as everything else? Faith, hope and charity: as relevant as serving suggestions.

The difference is minding. I mind the resultant moral dilemma of having no answers. I never forget the fucking questions. They're always there, accusing me of having no answers yet. If there are no answers there is no point: a terror of absurdity. Logic will force me to do things where desire hasn't a chance.

Friedrich desiderò ardentemente Clara, a prescindere dal suo sesso. Prima ancora di sapere cos’era, chi era, sapeva quello che sarebbe stata: la più grande pianista che lui potesse plasmare

What interests men is... Themselves and other men, the things that accrue to maleness. Bloody daft ball games and violence up to and including wars, chemical weapons and genocide, philosophical and political debate of the kind that reduces everything to a competition to prove who's RIGHT all the bloody time and backing winners and going to the dogs and bloody CARS and machines and things that don't talk back and are easy to control and who gets to boss who about and who's got the biggest dick and/or paypacket and/or voice and/or capacity for alcohol or whatever. Ok I know they're the products of their conditioning and they've been done out of their emotional birthrights and all that stuff. But they're not exactly fighting very hard to get rid of those terrible disadvantages ARE THEY? Too bloody right they're not. There's no social power to be gained out of bloody emotional birthrights is there, and that's what matters. Power. What other powerful persons ie other men think- THAT'S what interests men. Women might as well not fucking exist. You only get one shot at things and men use up too much energy. It's just too easy to miss out on what your own life might be about with one of them about the place. They need a lot of attention, one way or another. I think about the emotional dishonesty that passes for normal male behaviour, the laziness and evasion....