Marisa Crane

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

The love we shared is a paper town on a map we drew ourselves, drunk and fucked and needing to be more than we were.

The listlessness of it all, the profit off depression, the extinction of an entire species, the chlorinated connections- poisoned just to appear clean.

If we are simply energy, neither created or destroyed, and if a body is just a body, celestial or not, why don’t you come over here and we will make collisions out of moments.

I lie and tell you I had a dream about you last night, so it makes it more socially acceptable to reach out to someone I haven’t spoken to in years.

You can tell a lot about a person by listening to the way they talk about someone they once loved.

I have been complimented many times and they always embarrass me; I always feel that they have not said enough.

I have a great deal of company in the house, especially in the morning when nobody calls.

Conversation enriches the understanding; but solitude is the school of genius.

Letters are like wine; if they are sound they ripen with keeping. A man should lay down letters as he does a cellar of wine.

In the multitude of middle-aged men who go about their vocations in a daily course determined for them much in the same way as the tie of their cravats, there is always a good number who once meant to shape their own deeds and alter the world a little.

I’m like a starving man who has been given food. Maybe he’s cold, and his clothes are torn, and he’s ashamed, but he’s not unhappy.

Self-denial is not a virtue, it is only the effect of prudence on rascality.

When a man laughs at his troubles he loses a great many friends. They never forgive the loss of their prerogative.

Originality is a device that untalented people use to impress other untalented people to protect themselves from talented people…

Life is a quarry, out of which we are to mold and chisel and complete a character.

Why, except as a means of livelihood, a man should desire to act on the stage when he has the whole world to act in, is not clear to me.

Believe that each day that shines on you is your last.

You’ll never get anywhere if you go about what-iffing like that. Would Columbus have discovered America if he’d said ‘What if I sink on the way over? What if I meet pirates? What if I never come back?’ He wouldn’t even have started.

George Washington, as a boy, was ignorant of the commonest accomplishments of youth. He could not even lie.

So much of our time is spent in preparation, so much in routine, and so much in retrospect, that the amount of each person’s genius is confined to a very few hours.