You don’t know the first thing about love, because you don’t understand compromise.
“
| — | Larry. //Closer |
Where is this love? I can’t see it, I can’t touch it. I can’t feel it. I can hear it. I can hear some words, but I can’t do anything with your easy words.
“
| — | Alice. //Closer |
I think what you love right now is the idea of me. You can’t love someone for what they stand for or seem to be. You have to love them for their details, for the little things that are true of them and only them.
“
| — | Win a Date with Tad Hamilton (via littlemiss) |
written on the body
misery is a vacuum. a space without air, a suffocated dead place, the abode of the miserable. misery is a tenement block, rooms like battery cages, sit over your own droppings, lie on your own filth. misery is a no u-turns, no stopping road. travel down it pushed by those behind, tripped by those in front. travel down it at furious speed though the days are mummified in lead. it happens so fast once you get started, there’s no anchor from the real world to slow you down, nothing to hold on to. misery pulls away the brackets of life leaving you to free fall. whatever your private hell, you’ll find millions like it in misery. this is the town where everyone’s nightmares come true.
happiness is a specific. misery is a generalisation. people usually know exactly why they are happy. they very rarely know why they are miserable.
“
| — | written on the body |
Closer
Larry: [on a photography exhibit] What do you think?
Alice: It's a lie. It's a bunch of sad strangers photographed beautifully, and... all the glittering assholes who appreciate art say it's beautiful 'cause that's what they wanna see. But the people in the photos are sad, and alone... But the pictures make the world seem beautiful, so... the exhibition is reassuring which makes it a lie, and everyone loves a big fat lie.
