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Quotes, Songs, Poems
You Guys Get the Point.

It was a warm day, and the Luxembourg was bathed in sunshine and shadow. The sky was clear as though the angels had scrubbed it that morning, sparrows twittered in the chestnut trees and Marius, living and breathing but thinking of nothing in particular, wholly absorbed i being alive, went by their bench. The girl looked up at him and their eyes met. What message was to be read in her eyes? Marius could not have said. Nothing and yet everything. A spark had passed between them. She looked down and he continued on his way. What he had encountered was not the frank innocent gaze of a child. It was as though a door had suddenly opened and then had been as swiftly closed. There comes a day when every girl has this look in her eyes, and woe to him who encounters it! That first gaze of a spirit that does not yet know itself is like the first glow of sunrise, the awakening of something radiant but still veiled. Nothing can convey the perilous charm of that unexpected gleam, shedding of a sudden, hesitant light on present innocence and future passion. It is a kind of unresolved tenderness, chance-disclosed and expectant, a snare laid unwittingly by innocence, which captures a heart without intending or knowing what it does, a maid with the sudden gaze of a woman. Rarely does it happen that a gaze such as this does not profoundly affect its victim. All purity and ardour is concentrated in that magical but fateful gleam which, more than the most calculated oglings of a coquette, has the power to implant in another heart the ominous flower, so loaded with fragrance and with poison, that it is called love.
--Les Miserables

I hate the way you talk to me,
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car,
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots,
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick,
It even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you're always right,
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh,
Even more when you make me cry.
I hate it when you're not around,
And the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you,
Not even close,
Not even a little bit,
Not even at all.
--Ten Things I Hate About You

Slow Dance
Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterflies erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask "How are you?"
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Ever told your child,
"We'll do it tomorrow?"
And in your haste
Not seen his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had the time
To call and say "Hi"?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It's like an unopened gift...
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower.
Hear the music,
Before the song is over.

We Walk Through This World With the Illusion Our Lives Mean Something

Nothing ever changes
You go about your day-to-day
Try your best
Give your all
None of it matters
No meaning
Just a blip on some cosmic screen
A puppet of life's game
Live your life the best you can
Don't live your life at all.
It's all the same
Nothing but time's deep waters flowing by
Dare to care for anyone
And your heart will be crushed
Never care for anything
And your heart will die
Live the life of a saint, good and gracious
Die of cancer
Live as a sinner, a murderer, a liar
Die an old man, happy in your bed
It makes no difference at all
Nothing we do means anything anyway
No one will remember us for the things we did, only our failures
When I die, who is going to stand over me and say,
"He was a good man, he tried the best he could."
No one.
Dust in the wind is all we are here for
A brief moment and then forgotten
To those of you I've brought some small measure of happiness:
I'm sorry it couldn't have been more
To those of you I've brought pain:
I'm sorry that I'm the person this twisted world has molded me into
A story begins, A story ends
And so it will be, to the end of time.
--Ray, OH

Step One: Slit my throat.

Step Two: Play in my blood.

Step Three: Cover me in dirty sheets and run laughing out of the house.

Step Four: Stop at Lake Michigan and rinse your crimson hands.

You took me hostage and made your demands.
I couldn't meet them so you cut off my fingers, one by one.
--"This Could Be Love" by Alkaline Trio

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