You changed the subject." "From what?" "The empty-headed girls who think you're sexy." "You know." "Know what?" "That I only have eyes for you." Laila swooned inside. She tried to read his face but was met by a look that was indecipherable: the cheerful, cretinous grin at odds with the narrow, half desperate look in his eyes. A clever look, calculated to fall precisely at the midpoint between mockery and sincerity
Interpretation
This quote expresses the deep emotional connection and affection one person has for another.
In the quote, there is a playful yet sincere exchange between two characters, highlighting the complexity of love and desire. The speaker reveals their unwavering affection for the listener, emphasizing that amidst outward distractions or flirtations, their heart remains focused solely on the other person. The contrast between the playful banter and the deeper feelings illustrates the nuances of romantic relationships, where humor often intermingles with genuine emotional depth.
In practice
In a romantic speech at a wedding, one might say, 'Like in literature, I only have eyes for you, my love.'
You're gutless. It's how you were made. And that's not such a bad thing because your saving grace is that you've never lied to yourself about it. Not about that. Nothing wrong with cowardice as long as it comes with prudence. But when a coward stops remembering who he is... God help him.
There was brotherhood between people who had fed from the same breast, a kinship that even time could not break. - Amir
I don't outline at all; I don't find it useful, and I don't like the way it boxes me in. I like the element of surprise and spontaneity, of letting the story find its own way.
And that's the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.
Perspective [is] a luxury when your head [is] constantly buzzing with a swarm of demons.
The desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.
You are like night, calmed, constellated. Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.
Let us not love by words alone, but let us love until it hurts.
It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt)
They will say I smoked cigarettes and marijuana, cursed hoarse as a crow in all my languages, and loved morphine and Demerol and tequila and pulque, women and men. I will shrug my illusion of shoulders and answer that I am a water woman, not a vessel, not something you can sail or charter. I am instead the tributary, the river, the fluid source, and the sea itself. I am all her rainy implications. And what do you, with your rusted compass, know of love?
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
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