“Growing up means learning what life is. When you’re little, you have a set of ideals, standards, criteria, plans, outlooks, and you think that you have to sit around and wait for them to happen to you and then life will work. But life isn’t like that, for anybody; you can’t fall in love with a standard, you have to fall in love with a person. You can’t live in a criteria, you have to live your life. You can’t wait for your plans to materialize, because they may never materialize the way you think they will. You can’t wait to watch your ideals and standards walk up to you, because you can’t know what’s yours until you have it. I always say, always take the first chance in case you never get a second one, but growing up takes that even one step further, growing up means that you have to hold on to what you have, when you have it, because what you have- that’s yours- and all the ideals and criteria you have set in your head, those aren’t yours, because those haven’t happened to you.”
-C. Joybell C.

Growing up means learning what life is. When you’re little, you have a set of ideals, standards, criteria, plans, outlooks, and you think that you have to sit around and wait for them to happen to you and then life will work. But life isn’t like that, for anybody; you can’t fall in love with a standard, you have to fall in love with a person. You can’t live in a criteria, you have to live your life. You can’t wait for your plans to materialize, because they may never materialize the way you think they will. You can’t wait to watch your ideals and standards walk up to you, because you can’t know what’s yours until you have it. I always say, always take the first chance in case you never get a second one, but growing up takes that even one step further, growing up means that you have to hold on to what you have, when you have it, because what you have- that’s yours- and all the ideals and criteria you have set in your head, those aren’t yours, because those haven’t happened to you.

-C. Joybell C.

"I’m a believing person. I believe in God even though I can’t see him. You can’t see the air in this room, right? But take it away and you’re dead. And I believe there’s something for us after we die. The world isn’t wasteful."-Lillian Gish

"I’m a believing person. I believe in God even though I can’t see him. You can’t see the air in this room, right? But take it away and you’re dead. And I believe there’s something for us after we die. The world isn’t wasteful."

-Lillian Gish

"Queen Esther, seized with mortal anguish, had recourse to the LORD. She lay prostrate upon the ground, together with her handmaids, from morning until evening, and said: “God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of Jacob, blessed are you. Help me, who am alone and have no help but you, for I am taking my life in my hand. As a child I used to hear from the books of my forefathers that you, O LORD, always free those who are pleasing to you. Now help me, who am alone and have no one but you, O LORD, my God. And now, come to help me, an orphan. Put in my mouth persuasive words in the presence of the lion and turn his heart to hatred for our enemy, so that he and those who are in league with him may perish. Save us from the hand of our enemies; turn our mourning into gladness and our sorrows into wholeness.”
-Queen Esther, The Story of Purim

"Queen Esther, seized with mortal anguish,
had recourse to the LORD.
She lay prostrate upon the ground, together with her handmaids,
from morning until evening, and said:
“God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of Jacob, blessed are you.
Help me, who am alone and have no help but you,
for I am taking my life in my hand.
As a child I used to hear from the books of my forefathers
that you, O LORD, always free those who are pleasing to you.
Now help me, who am alone and have no one but you,
O LORD, my God. And now, come to help me, an orphan.
Put in my mouth persuasive words in the presence of the lion
and turn his heart to hatred for our enemy,
so that he and those who are in league with him may perish.
Save us from the hand of our enemies;
turn our mourning into gladness
and our sorrows into wholeness.”

-Queen Esther, The Story of Purim

"I’m  beginning to feel that no author has the right to tear his characters  apart if he doesn’t know how, or feel that he knows how (poor sucker) to  put them together again. I’m tired - my God, so tired - of leaving them  all broken on the page with just ‘The End’ written underneath."
-J.D. Salinger

"I’m beginning to feel that no author has the right to tear his characters apart if he doesn’t know how, or feel that he knows how (poor sucker) to put them together again. I’m tired - my God, so tired - of leaving them all broken on the page with just ‘The End’ written underneath."

-J.D. Salinger

"In a time long since, a time of repent, The Renaissance. In a quaint lonely town, sits a man with a frown. No job. No family. No crown. His luck had run out. Lost and alone.
The streets were his home. His thoughts would solely consist of “why do we exist?” His only company to confide in was the vermin in the street. He longed for only one thing, the world to bow at his feet.
They too should feel his secret fear. The dismal drear. His pain had made him sincere. He was better than the rest, all those ones he detests, within their castles, so vain. Selfish and conceited.
They couldn’t care less about the peasents they mistreated. They were in their own world, it was a joyous one too. That castle, she stood just to do all she could to keep the peasents at bay, not the enemy away.
They had no enemies in their filthy orgy. And in her, the castles every story, was just another chamber of Lucifer’s Laboratory. The world is a sandbox for all the wretched sinners.
They simply create what they want and make themselves the winners. But the true winner, he has nothing at all. Enduring the pain of waiting for that castle to fall. Through his good deeds, the rats and the fleas.
He will have for what he pleads, through the eradication of disease. So, to the castle he proceeds, like an ominous breeze through the trees. “Stay back!” The Guards screamed as they were thrown to their knees. “Oh God, have mercy, please!”
The castle, she gasped and then so imprisoned her breath, to the shallow confines of her fragile chest. I’m on the lamb but I ain’t no sheep. I am Death. And you have always been the sod. So repulsive and so odd.
You never even deserved the presence of God, and yet, I am here. Around your cradle I plod. Came on foot, without shod. How improper, how rude. However, they shall not mind the mud on my feet if there is blood on your sheet.
Now! Feel death, not just mocking you. Not just stalking you but inside of you. Wriggle and writhe. Feel smaller beneath my might. Seizure in the Pestilence that is my scythe. 
Die, all of you.”
-T.J. Lane, the gunmen in the Ohio High School shooting (February 27, 2012)

"In a time long since, a time of repent, The Renaissance. In a quaint lonely town, sits a man with a frown. No job. No family. No crown. His luck had run out. Lost and alone.


The streets were his home. His thoughts would solely consist of “why do we exist?” His only company to confide in was the vermin in the street. He longed for only one thing, the world to bow at his feet.


They too should feel his secret fear. The dismal drear. His pain had made him sincere. He was better than the rest, all those ones he detests, within their castles, so vain. Selfish and conceited.


They couldn’t care less about the peasents they mistreated. They were in their own world, it was a joyous one too. That castle, she stood just to do all she could to keep the peasents at bay, not the enemy away.


They had no enemies in their filthy orgy. And in her, the castles every story, was just another chamber of Lucifer’s Laboratory. The world is a sandbox for all the wretched sinners.


They simply create what they want and make themselves the winners. But the true winner, he has nothing at all. Enduring the pain of waiting for that castle to fall. Through his good deeds, the rats and the fleas.


He will have for what he pleads, through the eradication of disease. So, to the castle he proceeds, like an ominous breeze through the trees. “Stay back!” The Guards screamed as they were thrown to their knees. “Oh God, have mercy, please!”


The castle, she gasped and then so imprisoned her breath, to the shallow confines of her fragile chest. I’m on the lamb but I ain’t no sheep. I am Death. And you have always been the sod. So repulsive and so odd.


You never even deserved the presence of God, and yet, I am here. Around your cradle I plod. Came on foot, without shod. How improper, how rude. However, they shall not mind the mud on my feet if there is blood on your sheet.


Now! Feel death, not just mocking you. Not just stalking you but inside of you. Wriggle and writhe. Feel smaller beneath my might. Seizure in the Pestilence that is my scythe.

Die, all of you.”

-T.J. Lane, the gunmen in the Ohio High School shooting (February 27, 2012)

Frank Flannagan: Everything about you is perfect.
Ariane Chavasse: I’m too thin! And my ears stick out, and my teeth are crooked and my neck’s much too long. 
Frank Flannagan: Maybe so, but I love the way it all hangs together.
-Love in the Afternoon

Frank Flannagan: Everything about you is perfect.

Ariane Chavasse: I’m too thin! And my ears stick out, and my teeth are crooked and my neck’s much too long.

Frank Flannagan: Maybe so, but I love the way it all hangs together.

-Love in the Afternoon

George: What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want  the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull  it down. Hey. That’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.
Mary: I’ll take it. Then what?
George: Well, then you could swallow it, and it’d all  dissolve, see? And the moonbeams’d shoot out of your fingers and your  toes, and the ends of your hair… Am I talking too much?
-It’s a Wonderful Life

George: What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.

Mary: I’ll take it. Then what?

George: Well, then you could swallow it, and it’d all dissolve, see? And the moonbeams’d shoot out of your fingers and your toes, and the ends of your hair… Am I talking too much?

-It’s a Wonderful Life

“Thomas Edison’s last words were ‘It’s very beautiful over there’. I  don’t know where there is, but I believe it’s somewhere, and I hope it’s  beautiful.”
-John Green, ‘Looking For Alaska’

“Thomas Edison’s last words were ‘It’s very beautiful over there’. I don’t know where there is, but I believe it’s somewhere, and I hope it’s beautiful.”

-John Green, ‘Looking For Alaska’

Ms. Etta James:
A force of nature. Music’s original bad girl. With your platinum  hair, wild cat eyes your felliniesque sexuality and dangerous voice. A  voice that could be raspy with hardness of pain and turn into silk on  the drop of a dime. The master of Jazz, Blues, R&B and Rock’N’Roll.  We celebrate your unapologetic boldness, your genius and innovation.  Thank you, Etta James. 
I sing the songs that people need to hear.
“That’s where it begins and ends for me and these  songs were the ones that touched me the deepest. It was like I was  laying hold of some part of me that I didn’t even know was there until I  let it out.”
-Etta James

Ms. Etta James:

A force of nature. Music’s original bad girl. With your platinum hair, wild cat eyes your felliniesque sexuality and dangerous voice. A voice that could be raspy with hardness of pain and turn into silk on the drop of a dime. The master of Jazz, Blues, R&B and Rock’N’Roll. We celebrate your unapologetic boldness, your genius and innovation. Thank you, Etta James.

I sing the songs that people need to hear.

That’s where it begins and ends for me and these songs were the ones that touched me the deepest. It was like I was laying hold of some part of me that I didn’t even know was there until I let it out.”

-Etta James
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” 
-Kahlil Gibran

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

-Kahlil Gibran