They want us to be afraid. They want us

They want us to be afraid.
They want us to be afraid of leaving our homes.
They want us to barricade our doors
and hide our children.
Their aim is to make us fear life itself!
They want us to hate.
They want us to hate ‘the other’.
They want us to practice aggression
and perfect antagonism.
Their aim is to divide us all!
They want us to be inhuman.
They want us to throw out our kindness.
They want us to bury our love
and burn our hope.
Their aim is to take all our light!
They think their bricked walls
will separate us.
They think their damned bombs
will defeat us.
They are so ignorant they don?t understand
that my soul and your soul are old friends.
They are so ignorant they don?t understand
that when they cut you I bleed.
They are so ignorant they don?t understand
that we will never be afraid,
we will never hate
and we will never be silent
for life is ours!
— Kamand Kojouri

May she wake in torment!” he cried, with

May she wake in torment!” he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping his foot, and groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion. “Why, she’s a liar to the end! Where is she? Not there?not in heaven?not perished?where? Oh! you said you cared nothing for my sufferings! And I pray one prayer?I repeat it till my tongue stiffens?May she wake in torment!” he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping his foot, and groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion. “Why, she’s a liar to the end! Where is she? Not there?not in heaven?not perished?where? Oh! you said you cared nothing for my sufferings! And I pray one prayer?I repeat it till my tongue stiffens?Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you?haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always?take any form?drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!
— Emily Bront?, Wuthering Heights

livid, adj. Fuck You for cheating on me. Fuck

livid, adj.

Fuck You for cheating on me. Fuck you for reducing it to the word cheating. As if this were a card game, and you sneaked a look at my hand. Who came up with the term cheating, anyway? A cheater, I imagine. Someone who thought liar was too harsh. Someone who thought devastator was too emotional. The same person who thought, oops, he?d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Fuck you. This isn?t about slipping yourself an extra twenty dollars of Monopoly money. These are our lives. You went and broke our lives. You are so much worse than a cheater. You killed something. And you killed it when its back was turned.
— David Levithan, The Lover’s Dictionary

Everything with me is either worship and passion

Everything with me is either worship and passion or pity and understanding. I hate rarely, though when I hate, I hate murderously. For example now, I hate the bank and everything connected with it. I also hate Dutch paintings, penis-sucking, parties, and cold rainy weather. But I am much more preoccupied with loving.
— Ana?s Nin, Henry and June: From “A Journal of Love”: The Unexpurgated Diary of Ana?s Nin, 1931-1932

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