Self-Injury: A Struggle

Quotes By Letter: D

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13 4 5 

i think your bruise was understated
'cause you can't feel this anymore
it's getting bluer and you can't keep faking
that you can't feel this anymore.

-Your Bruise, Death Cab For Cutie

Recommended by Lauren.

~

The days of this society are numbered; its reasons and merits have been weighed and found to be lacking; its inhabitants are divided into two parties, one of which wants this society to disappear

-Guy Debord

~

Mom, there are hurdles here
That I cannot seem to clear
Dad, there are demons 'round
And though I said that I
Said I'd be alright, I lied
I lied
I lied
I lied.

-Hurdles Even Here, The Decemberists

~

How do you live with your self?
How could you possibly hurt someone like myself?
The saddest part, though, is I would take you back.
You've turned me into some spineless hypochondriac.

-Bruises, Majanda Delfino

~

I can't stop thinking about
Cutting myself up.
Visual bruises can be covered with make-up.
But down to the core,
I'm all bruises.

-Bruises, Majanda Delfino

~

Why do you decide to run these circles
bruised around my thighs?
Sleepless nights the bleeding clots
Why your eyes encapture my thoughts?

-Siren, Majanda Delfino

~

I don't want to start
Any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's
Got a sick sense of humour
And when I die
I expect to find Him laughing.

-Blasphemous Rumours, Depeche Mode

~

Could fulfillment ever be felt as deeply as loss? Romantically she decided that love must surely reside in the gap between desire and fulfillment, in the lack, not the contentment. Love was the ache, the anticipation, the retreat, everything around it but the emotion itself.

-The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai

~

Self-revelation is a cruel process. The real picture, the real 'you' never emerges. Looking for it is as bewildering as trying to know how you really look. Ten different mirrors show you ten different faces.

-The Long Silence, Shashi Deshpande

~

All that stuff you try to do and nothing ever works. Makes me think of the story of the little mermaid. It's like you said yes to an enormous sacrifice so you could have legs and mix with others. And every step is excruciatingly painful. What everybody else does with mind-blowing ease demands unbelievable effort from you.

-Baise-Moi, Virginie Despentes

Recommended by Shay.

~

Those who have suffered will understand that pain is welcome when it's all you have left,
come and die with me.

-Come With Me, Deviates

Recommended by caitlin.

~

... But the actual touch of her lingered, inside his heart. That remained. In all the years of his life ahead, the long years without her, with never seeing her or hearing from her or knowing anything about her, if she was alive or happy or dead or what, that touch stayed locked within him, sealed in himself, and never went away. That one touch of her hand.

-A Scanner Darkly, Philip K. Dick

~

Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.

-Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Philip K. Dick

~

I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul. In my degradation I have not been so degraded but that the sight of you with your father, and of this home made such a home by you, has stirred old shadows that I thought had died out of me. Since I knew you, I have been troubled by a remorse that I thought would never reproach me again, and have heard whispers from old voices impelling me upward, that I thought were silent for ever. I have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it.

-A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens

~

I'll tell you what real love is. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter...

-Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

Recommended by K..

~

Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.

-Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

~

In every life, no matter how full or empty ones purse, there is tragedy. It is the one promise life always fulfills. Thus, happiness is a gift, and the trick is not to expect it, but to delight in it when it comes, and to add to other peoples store of it.

-Nicholas Nickleby, Charles Dickens

~

Because I could not stop for Death--
He kindly stopped for me--
The Carriage held but just Ourselves--
and Immortality.

-Because I Could Not Stop For Death, Emily Dickinson

~

For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ration
To the ecstasy.

-For each ecstatic instant, Emily Dickinson

~

It struck me -- every Day --
The Lightning was as new
As if the Cloud that instant slit
And let the Fire through --

It burned Me -- in the Night --
It Blistered to My Dream --
It sickened fresh upon my sight --
With every Morn that came --

I though that Storm -- was brief --
The Maddest -- quickest by --
But Nature lost the Date of This --
And left it in the Sky --

-It struck me -- every Day --, Emily Dickinson

Recommended by Shay.

~

Pain -- has an Element of Blank --
It cannot recollect
When it begun -- or if there were
A time when it was not --

It has no Future -- but itself --
Its Infinite contain
Its Past -- enlightened to perceive
New Periods -- of Pain.

-Pain -- has an Element of Blank --, Emily Dickinson

Recommended by Shay.

~

The first Day's Night had come --
And grateful that a thing
So terrible -- had been endured --
I told my Soul to sing --

She said her Strings were snapt --
Her Bow -- to Atoms blown --
And so to mend her -- gave me work
Until another Morn --

And then -- a Day as huge
As Yesterdays in pairs,
Unrolled its horror in my face --
Until it blocked my eyes --

My Brain -- begun to laugh --
I mumbled -- like a fool --
And tho' 'tis Years ago -- that Day --
My Brain keeps giggling -- still.

And Something's odd -- within --
That person that I was --
And this One -- do not feel the same --
Could it be Madness -- this?

-The first Day's Night had come, Emily Dickinson

~

Unable are the Loved to die
For Love is Immortality.

-Unable are the Loved to die, Emily Dickinson

~

I recall once telling Charlotte about a village on the Orinoco where female children were ritually cut on the inner thigh by their first sexual partners, the point being to scar the female with the male's totem. Charlotte saw nothing extraordinary in this. 'I mean that's pretty much what happens everywhere, isn't it,' she said. 'Somebody cuts you? Where it doesn't show?'

-A Book of Common Prayer, Joan Didion

~

We tell ourselves stories in order to live. The princess is caged in the consulate. The man with the candy will lead the children into the sea. The naked woman on the ledge outside the window on the sixteenth floor is a victim of accidie, or the naked woman is an exhibitionist, and it would be 'interesting' to know which. We tell ourselves that it makes some difference whether the naked woman is about to commit a mortal sin or is about to register a political protest or is about to be, the Aristophanic view, snatched back to the human condition by the fireman in priest's clothing just visible in the window behind her, the one smiling at the telephoto lens. We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the 'ideas' with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.

-The White Album, Joan Didion

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