Quotes

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.

Who says romance is dead? @jameshunt and I are on the train home, on separate ipods, playing battleships on the DS. I won 😀

The research shows men who spend even a few minutes in the company of an attractive woman perform less well in tests designed to measure brain function than those who chat to someone they do not find attractive.

Women, however, were not affected by chatting to a handsome man.

Everything has it’s time and place, so don’t worry if you don’t get what you want right now.

The average person tells 4 lies a day, or 1460 a year a total of 88,000 by the age of 60. And the most common lie is: I’M FINE.

It is sad but predictable to see John Prior (Letters, August 10) trotting out the old fallacy about music that we buy a product encumbered with a licence. Let us walk through my most recent purchase. I strolled into the store, located the CD I was after, paid for it in cash and left. At no stage was I asked to sign a licensing agreement – not even a post-sale agreement like those for software. It was a simple transaction of cash for a physical product. “No,” cries the music industry, “you are bound by the licensing agreement that you did not sign and that we cannot produce for inspection.” Fine – let’s suppose I now have a licence for personal use applying to all the CDs I own. I should be able to take advantage of that. A CD I bought 10 years ago now has a scratch down the middle so that five of the 10 songs refuse to play. Luckily for me, this problem is solely with the physical medium. After all, my licence for personal use should allow me to reacquire “my” content, especially since it is digital data and can be reproduced an unlimited number of times at virtually no cost. “No,” cries the music industry, “you bought a product, not a licence. You are not entitled to a free replacement, you need to buy it all over again. And when you do, you will be covered by another identical licence. Until something happens to this new physical medium.” David Jack Leichhardt

We cannot direct the wind but we can adjust the sails.

When I’d go and visit Richey and Nick down in Swansea University, Richey would be there at the weekend with all the Sunday papers, kneeling on the floor, circling things and cutting them out. He was a classic careening-around-his-subject kind of student. He was really earnest at the end of the day, he’d say, ‘My Mum and Dad worked hard to get me here and I’m not going to piss it up in the Uni Bar.’

We held hands on the last night on earth. Our mouths filled with dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees, screaming like dogs, bleeding dark into the leaves. It was empty on the edge of town but we knew everyone floated along the bottom of the river. So we walked through the waste where the road curved into the sea and the shattered seasons lay, and the bitter smell of burning was on you like a disease. In our cancer of passion you said, “Death is a midnight runner.” The sky had come crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide. We picked up the shards and formed them into shapes of stars that wore like an antique wedding dress.
The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the unborn as the ferris wheel silently slowed to a stop. The few insects skittered away in hopes of a better pastime. I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom and asked if you would accompany me in a quick fall, but you made me realize that my ticket wasn’t good for two. I rode alone.

“I will wait for you.” She said, Endlessly. “I will wait for you.” So spoke, Misery.