like stars in my hand..

People have stars, but they aren't the same. For travelers, the stars are guides. For other people, they're nothing but tiny lights. And for still others, for scholars, they're problems. For my businessman, they were gold. But all those stars are silent stars. You, though, you'll have stars like nobody else."
"What do you mean?"
"When you look up at the sky at night, since I'll be living on one of them, since I'll be laughing on one of them, for you, it'll be as if all the stars are laughing. You'll have stars that can laugh!"
And he laughed again.
"And when you're consoled (everyone is eventually consoled), you'll be glad you've known me. You'll always be my friend. You'll feel like laughing with me. And you'll open your windows sometimes just for the fun of it... And your friends will be amazed to see you laughing while you're looking up at the sky. Then you'll tell them, 'Yes, it's the stars. They always make me laugh!" "


Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Le petit prince







...There was a warm breeze and a salty kind of smell, and i could feel my sadness and , i guess, despair blowing off of me. People that you love can lift you and confuse you. Understanding them doesn't seem so important when they're inside your head. That's why love should be easy. I guess it is. I just don't know.

Ron McClarty, The Memory of running








It may be said that, in some sense, we create our own reality through the way we choose to perceive the external world and like anything that is created or constructed, it can collapse. Does this mean anything to you? You think you are happily married and then you discover that you aren't. Your whole perception of the outside world, as it pertains to you, just suddenly collapses. This is terrifying because our perception of ourselves in the outside world and our sense of self are the same thing. What was Simon in the world but a young man getting older on a couch, without a job, running out of time, running out of scotch, with all the cruelty of unrealised potential, and the bitter aftertaste of misplaced hope.


Seven types of ambiguity, Elliot Perlman