"What is Real?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but  Really loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

 -The Velveteen Rabbit or How Toys Become Real by Margery Williams

When she woke up crying from one of her nightmares, the Kolker would stay with her, brush her hair with his hands, collect her tears in thimbles for her to drink the next morning. "The only way to overcome sadness is to consume it," he said.

He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy.
And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness.
I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping.
And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else.
 I am not sad.

-Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer's

"An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own ter ms, not anyone else's. You have no right to think about those things, I swear to you. Not in any real sense, anyway."

-White oleander by Janet Fitch

I just created a Neopets account.

lazytothinkofnames

Add me HAHAHAHAHAHAH

( and I'll get bored of it tomorrow )

Had a blast in India. Seriously. Loved my group. I hate it now that we're back in Singapore. Two days to Cambodia! Quotes for now

“ There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room. It’s like watching Paris from an express caboose heading in the opposite direction—every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it’s really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and excitement at about a million miles an hour. ”

--Sylvia plath

 “ I don’t understand what I’m fumbling after. You’re the reason I cannot forget this season. ”

Got a big plan, this mindset maybe its right. At the right place and right time, maybe tonight. With a whisper or handshake, you’re sending a sign. Wanna make out and kiss hard? Wait…nevermind. ”