Pieces Of You Tablo Quotes

It didn’t rain for you, maybe, but it always rains for me. The sky shatters and rains shards of glass.

Cowards, I believe, are people who are afraid to embrace what they want or need in a natural, honest way.

My heart was closed. Cold. I was self-conscious and cynical.

He laughed. I suddenly wanted to laugh, to laugh with him, to sit here, or maybe outside in the rain, and just laugh with him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even smile.

When I stop at a stop sign, I don’t think about the distance I’ve crossed. I just wish I never had to stop.

These are the pieces of my youth, the small secrets and the not-so-great expectations that defined my coming of age.

I always make sure there’s an opening in my room - an inch at the door, or maybe even at the window. My grandmother taught me that if one dies during sleep, the soul needs an exit, or it will be forever trapped in the room.

I walked around Soho's street for over an hour, running into familiar faces but never once stopping to chat. It was then that I felt something discomforting and comforting all at once. I didn't want to be here, in this city, anymore.

I wanted to stay, but at the same time, I wanted to disappear.

Watch people breathing, you don’t notice it until they don’t.

It was painful to sit and watch him drink glass after glass, so I close my min'd door on him, just as I would always close the door in my room to numb out his voice. When I did this, he had as much life as the bowl of fruit on the table.

If life were a highway it would have stop signs (...) and these stop signs they're there so you'll stop once in a while to take a breath. (...) And just reflect, you know, just think about all the distance you've crossed. Maybe, just maybe, these stop signs in our lives are good things

The Tustin police seemed reluctant to publicise the racial implication of the crime. For instance, the Tustian Weekly omitted the words- I killed a jap- in their rendition of Lindberg's letter.' Wait, they did edit it. I don't get it. Why the hell would they do that?" "I am sorry" Junes looked up from the article. Margaret hold out a hand and placed it on top of his. He couldn't tell if it was trembling because his own hand was shaking pretty badly now. "Why are you sorry?" "Because you're Korean" "So?" "He was one of your people" Junseok snatched his hand away from her. Hequicklc shoved it under the table. "I'm Korean-American," he said. "But still" "Still what? This guy was Vietnamese. How is he one of my people?" "Well, both of you are Asians" Junseok stared back at her sincere eyes, then at his hand under the table. He wanted desperately to explain how non-sensical her comment was, but instead, he folded up the paper slowly and carefully. Tucking it under his arm, he got up , and whiteout saying anything to her, walked towards the exit. She called from behind, but he walked on, feeling the dirties expand inside him like a large flower. Each step quickened until he was running, running out the door and into the street, running past people and cars, running without the finest idea of what he was running from, to a place that he couldn't possibly picture in his mind.

It seems no matter what side of the road you’re on, the lines go the opposite way.

She laughed, but this time it sounded hoarse. "It's alright," she said, leaning in again. "It's not the first time I've fucked to get a part." Mark took a step back, putting his hand forward to distance her. The way she said fucked sounded exactly like the way she said rat, and he felt certain that this was all wrong. "How could you say that?" "Say what? You can't be new to this." "That's not an excuse," he said, taking another step back. "Why do you do this? How can you do this?" She stopped her approach. Her eyes turned to the abandoned plate of steak on the coffee table. Mark, unable to imagine what she was feeling, picked up her sweater from the floor and handed it to her. She took it without looking at him, then sat on the couch. She began to cry. "I'm sorry," he said. "But there's no reason for you to do any of this." She put her sweater on, straightened her skirt, then turned to face him. "I do this," she said, gesturing gat the couch, "because the moment I spend being someone else on screen is better than the twenty-eight years I've spent being myself.