Marisa Crane

The moonlight melts into lace across your thighs. Unbridled passion, an Elliott Smith vinyl, and the intimate place of you.

Are you using your pain as an excuse or as a source of strength?

It occurred to me that love, simply stated, is replacing the need to always be right with the need to be understanding.

I’m just a broken person looking for other broken people who may have gotten shards of me stuck in their feet and aren’t too concerned about pulling them out.

Blood banks are all closed; you can’t use others to keep you warm.

I have imprinted on you and all those miles between us only keep us apart because we let them.

But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, in which each feels that the other is feeling something, having once existed, its effect is not to be done away with.

It is not best that we should all think alike; it is a difference of opinion that makes horse races.

I think I have a good deal of my Uncle Theodore in me, because I could not, at any age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on.

The ear is the avenue to the heart.

Once made equal to man, woman becomes his superior.

The pains you feel are messengers. Listen to them.

Everything that is made beautiful and fair and lovely is made for the eye of one who sees.

No man thoroughly understands a truth until he has contended against it.

As peace is the end of war, so to be idle is the ultimate purpose of the busy.

Philebus was saying that enjoyment and pleasure and delight, and the class of feelings akin to them, are a good to every living being, whereas I contend, that not these, but wisdom and intelligence and memory, and their kindred, right opinion and true reasoning, are better and more desirable than pleasure

What is wrong with priests and popes is that instead of being apostles and saints, they are nothing but empirics who say I know instead of I am learning, and pray for credulity and inertia as wise men pray for skepticism and activity.

The mark of the man of the world is absence of pretension. He does not make a speech; he takes a low business-tone, avoids all brag, is nobody, dresses plainly, promises not at all, performs much, speaks in monosyllables, hugs his fact. He calls his employment by its lowest name, and so takes from evil tongues their sharpest weapon. His conversation clings to the weather and the news, yet he allows himself to be surprised into thought, and the unlocking of his learning and philosophy.

Worldly faces never look so worldly as at a funeral. They have the same effect of grating incongruity as the sound of a coarse voice breaking the solemn silence of night.

The disciplined are free.

There is a sort of subjection which is the peculiar heritage of largeness and of love; and strength is often only another name for willing bondage to irremediable weakness.