We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.
Catalog
Book
Diary
Misty Wilmot has had it. Once a promising young artist, she’s now stuck on an island ruined by tourism, drinking too much and working as a waitress in a hotel. Her husband, a contractor, is in a coma after a suicide attempt, but that doesn’t stop his clie
Characters
Just for the record, she still loves you. She wouldn’t bother to torture you if she didn’t.
I feel like more and more I come to loathe any dominion of one over another; any leadership, any imposition of the will. Is it chiefly intellectual snobbery that makes me dislike most people? I don’t know. I know that I am full of anger.
You’re always haunted by the idea you’re wasting your life.
Everything is a self-portrait. A diary. Your whole drug history’s in a strand of your hair. Your fingernails. The forensic details. The lining of your stomach is a document. The calluses on your hand tell all your secrets. Your teeth give you away. Your accent. The wrinkles around your mouth and eye…
Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It’s all giving you away. Everything you do shows your hand. Everything is a self portrait. Everything is a diary.
It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.
It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.
Just for the record, she still loves you. She wouldn’t bother to torture you if she didn’t.
You’ll need to suffer to make any real art.
You’ll need to suffer to make any real art.
We all want to explain ourselves. Nobody wants to be forgotten.
Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It’s all giving you away. Everything you do shows your hand. Everything is a self portrait. Everything is a diary.
You’ll need to suffer to make any real art.
We all want to explain ourselves. Nobody wants to be forgotten.
It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.
It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.
What you don't understand you can make mean anything.
Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It's all giving you away. Everything you do shows your hand. Everything is a self portrait. Everything is a diary.
It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness.