“But I don’t understand! I don’t understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she’s, there’s just a body, and I don’t understand why she just can’t get back in it and not be dead anymore! It’s stupid! It’s mortal and stupid! And, and Xander’s crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well Joyce will never have any more fruit punch, ever, and she’ll never have eggs, or yawn or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why.”
Had this quote in my brain for a few days. So completely random.
When tomorrow starts without me
And I’m not here to see
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
All filled with tears for me
I wish you wouldn’t cry
The Way you did today
While thinking of the many things
We did not get to say
I know how much you love me
As much as I love you
Each time that you think of me
I know you will miss me too
When tomorrow starts with out me
Please try to understand
That an angel came and called my name
And took me by the hand
The angel said my place was ready
In heaven far above
And That I would have to leave behind
All those I Dearly Love
But When I walked through Heaven’s Gates
I felt so much at home
When GOD looked down and smiled at me
From his golden throne
He said This Is Eternity
And All I promised you
Today for life on earth is done
But Here it starts a new
I promise no tomorrow
For today will always last
And Since each day’s the exact same way
There is no longing for the past
So When Tomorrow starts without me
Do not think we’re apart
For every time you think of me
Remember I’m right here in your heart
By David M Romano
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with the juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle the moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message: “He is dead!”
Put the crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves.
Let the traffic policeman wear black cotton gloves.
He was my north, my south, my east and west,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can come to any good.
Sometimes I ain’t so sho who’s got ere a right to say when a man is crazy and when he ain’t. Sometimes I think it ain’t none of us pure crazy and ain’t none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-way. It’s like it ain’t so much what a fellow does, but it’s the way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does it.
Yesterday I was clever and tried to change the world. Today I am wise and try to change myself.
Your soul is attracted to people the same way flowers are attracted to the sun, surround yourself only with those who want to see you grow.
I hope to arrive to my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.
I always thought the words, and then, were a prelude to something wonderful. Like seeing a ship come in or finding a note in your letterbox, when you weren’t expecting one. That swift, surprising transition from nothing to everything.
Two little words that hold a world of promise, and then, the light pierced through the dark, forbidding sky, and the rain stopped falling.
And then I met you.
Keep away from the people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
or cool one pain,
or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Oh me! Oh Life! of the questions of these recurring,
of the endless trains of the faithless,
of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring – what good amid these, O me, O life?
That you are here – that life exists and identity
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
And softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone
W. B. Yeats
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be.
Unless you love someone, nothing else makes sense.
E. E. Cummings
There’s rage and terror and there’s sickness here
I fight because I have to
I fight for us to know the truth
There’s not enough tape to shut this mouth
The stones you throw can make me bleed
But I won’t stop until we’re free
Wild hearts can’t be broken
The Body (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)
January 22, 2001
Written by:Joss Whedon
( http://www.buffyworld.com/buffy/scripts/094_scri.html )
Anya: Are they gonna cut the body open?
Willow: Oh my God! Would you just… stop talking? Just… shut your mouth! Please!
Anya: What am I doing?
Willow: How can you act like that?
Anya: Am I supposed to be changing my clothes a lot? Is that the helpful thing to do?
Willow: The way you behave—
Anya: Nobody will tell me.
Willow: Because it’s not okay for you to be asking these things!
Anya: But I don’t understand! I don’t understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she’s, there’s just a body, and I don’t understand why she just can’t get back in it and not be dead anymore! It’s stupid! It’s mortal and stupid! And, and Xander’s crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well Joyce will never have any more fruit punch, ever, and she’ll never have eggs, or yawn or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why.
Willow: We don’t know… how it works… why.
“She has missed so many moments but I feel that those moments would not have happened if she had not been up there.”
– Sandra Bullock
‘I took on depression like it was the fight of my life, which, of course, it was. I became a student of my own depressed experience, trying to unthread its causes. What was the root of all this despair? Was it psychological? (Mom and Dad’s fault?) Was it just temporal, a “bad time” in my life? (When divorce ends, will the depression end with it?) Was it genetic? (Melancholy, called by many names, has run through my family for generations, along with its sad bride, alcoholism.) Was it cultural? (Is this just the fallout of a post-feminist American career girl trying to find balance in an increasingly stressful and alienating urban world?) Was it astrological? (Am I so sad because I’m a thin-skinned Cancer whose major signs are all ruled by unstable Gemini?) Was it artistic? (Don’t creative people always suffer from depression because we’re so supersensitive and special?) Was it evolutionary? (Do I carry in me the residual panic that comes after millennia of my species’ attempting to survive a brutal world?) Was it karmic? (Are all these spasms of grief just the consequences of bad behaviour in previous lifetimes, the last obstacles before liberation?) Was it hormonal? Dietary? Philosophical? Seasonal? Environmental? Was I tapping into a universal yearning for God? Did I have a chemical imbalance? Or did I just need to get laid?’