Emma and Dexter.

There is still time for those who remain alive.
So much to be said and lived.

Today, and just for today, I hope so.

Clementine Kruczynski said to her doll: 

"Clementine, you can't be ugly."

Shannon McFarland said to herself: 

"The shot, it was like getting hit hard is what I remember. The bullet. It took a minute before I could focus my eyes, but there was my blood and snot, my drool and teeth all over the passenger seat. I had to open the car door and get the gun from where I'd dropped it outside the window. Being in shock helped. The gun and the glove's in a storm drain in the hospital parking lot where I dropped them, in case you want proof.

Then the intravenous morphine, the tiny operating room manicure scissors cut my dress off, the little patch panties, the police photos. Birds ate my face. Nobody ever suspected the truth.

The truth is I panicked a little after that. I let everybody think the wrong things. The future is not a good place to start lying and cheating all over again. None of this is anybody's fault except mine. I ran because just getting my jaw rebuilt was too much temptation to revert, to play that game, the looking good game. Now my whole new future is still out there waiting for me.

The truth is, being ugly isn't the thrill you'd think, but it can be an opportunity for something better than I ever imagined.

The truth is I'm sorry." (PALAHNIUK, Chuck. Invisible Monsters. p. 287-8)

It all started with lightness.
Then concentration.
Then taking a deep breathe.
Then again.
Listening calmly.
Then thinking.
Forgiveness.
Happiness.
Then getting emotional.
Then being received and introduced kindly.
Getting emotional once more and again.
Forgiveness.
Strenght.
Straightness.
Getting emotional.
More forgiveness.
Then understanding.
Then being grateful.
Still being stubborn and a bit depressed.

Ending up with lightness.
Strenght.
Forgiveness.
Revelation.

Don Lockwood and Kathy Selden in the most proper setting.
How to better court a girl - in the 50s.

 

Still applicable, btw.

Learning from the queen supreme - II

Brandy's answer was little hats with veils. And big hats with veils. Pancake hats and pillbox hats edged all around with clouds of tulle and gauze. Parachute silk or heavy crepe or dense net dotted with chenille pompons.
"The most boring thing in the entire world," Brandy says, "is nudity."
The second most boring thing, she says, is honesty.
"Think of this as a tease. It's lingerie for your face," she says. "A peekaboo nightgown you wear over your whole identity."
The third most boring thing in the entire world is your sorry-assed past. So Brandy never asked me anything. Bulldozer alpha bitch she can be, we meet again and again in the speech therapist office and Brandy tells me everything I need to know about myself.

PALAHNIUK, Chuck. Invisible Monsters. p. 112

Learning from the 'queen supreme' - I

The thin and eternal goddess that she is, Brandy's picture smiles up at me over a sea of painkillers. This is how I met Brandy Alexander. This is how I found the strenght not to get on with my former life. This is how I found the courage not to pick up the same old pieces.
[...]
"When you understand," Brandy says, "that what you're telling is just a story. It isn't happening anymore. When you realize the story you're telling is just words, when you can just crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan," Brandy says, "then we'll figure out who you're going to be."

PALAHNIUK, Chuck. Invisible Monsters. p. 61

Something between Secret Smile and Wonderwall...

A safe and bright place between them.

Almost where Joel Barish would say "I'm just exactly where I want to be."
Someday it will be.

It was lovely. Not to be stared at, not seen, but being pulled into view by the interested, uncritical eyes of the other. Having her hair examined as a part of her self, not as material or a style. Having her lips, nose, chin caressed as they might be if she were a moss rose a gardener paused to admire. Denver's skin dissolved under that gaze and became soft and bright like the lisle dress that had its arm around her mother's waist. She floated near but outside her won body, feeling vague and intense at the same time. Needing nothing. Being what there was.

Beloved. Toni Morrison. p. 139

Se o nome disso não é PREMONIÇÃO, então eu não sei de mais nada.

Tu é uma rosa com "bilho", ela disse.