Henrique Oliveira

       What do you say to a little girl, who you… what do you say?

      Maybe you just tell her who you are now, Kerwin. Who you’ve become.


To-day we would pass through the scenes of our youth like travellers.  We are burnt up by hard facts; like tradesmen we understand distinctions, and like butchers, necessities. We are no longer untroubled-we are indifferent.  We might exist there; but should we really live there?  We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial-I believe we are lost. 

— Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front. Ballantine, 1987


All memory has a taste of poison.

Edmond Jabès, The Book of Questions Volumes 2 and 3: The Book of Yukel Return to the Book, Rosmarie Waldrop. (Wesleyan University Press, 1977)


Night again. We are deadened by the strain-a deadly tension that scrapes along one’s spine like a gapped knife. Our legs refuse to move, our hands tremble, our bodies are a thin skin stretched painfully over repressed madness, over an almost irresistible, bursting roar. We have neither flesh nor muscles any longer, we dare not look at one another for fear of some incalculable thing. So we shut our teeth-it will end-it will end-perhaps we will come through.

— Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front. Ballantine, 1987

make me choose: will graham or hannibal lecter (requested by anon)

No one knows what’s going on in someone else’s mind. 

it’s who you are, kieren, running away won’t change that


There are only two sides of myself: the dark one and the darker one

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