Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


birds in the nest

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❝I never know what to do during these moments. I tend to view crying in its most literal sense: as fluid squirting involuntarily from an orifice, and I react accordingly. You know, like if you’d severed your femoral artery and blood began spraying everywhere. In both cases, I might offer you a tissue and go, “Don’t…do that.❞

Wednesday, January 25th, 2012


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