Act 1. Scene 1. Verona. A public place.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged a fire sparkling in lovers eyes, being vexed a sea nourished with lovers tears, What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall and a perserving sweet.

William Shakespeare

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Pain.

“He says people live their lives out of the left half of their brains. It’s only when someone is in extreme pain, or upset or sick, that their subconscious can slip into their conscious. When someone’s injured or sick or mourning or depressed, the right brain can take over for a flash, just an instant, and give them access to divine inspiration. A flash or inspiration. A moment of insight. /…/ according to Plato, we don’t learn anything. Our soul has lived so many lives that we know everything. Teachers and education can only remind us of what we already know. Our misery. This suppression of our rational mind is the source of inspiration. The muse. Our guardian angel. Suffering takes us out of our rational self-control and let’s the divine channel through us.”

Diary, Chuck Palahniuk

Self and song.

“It’s like walking, just one key after the other. Keep moving, because it hurts too fucking much to stay put. It’s the illusion that I’m going somewhere, or going away from something. I’m moving, so I must be alive. I can’t die, because music isn’t really alive. It’s an equation. A sensation. A fleeting thought that runs too fast through your head to be heard. An idea that lingers and drives you insane until you have to play it. To move is to blur the line between self and song.”

Dead On My Feet

“The infinite future makes that kind of mattering impossible.”

Even if it’s a dumb story, telling it changes other people just the slightest little bit, just as living the story changes me. An infinitesimal change. And that infinitesimal change ripples outward – ever smaller but everlasting. I will get forgotten, but the stories will last. And so we all matter – maybe less than a lot, but always more than none.

Colin Singleton, An Abundance of Katherines

Haunting memories

“I was tired. And not just sleepy tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of constantly straddling the line between reality and unconsciousness and never being able to fully experience either one. I would give anything to just feel normal again. To be able to walk somewhere and have the ability to actually fucking register everything that was going on around me. I was tired. And completely fucking terrified that I’d never get the chance to know anything different.”

Edward Cullen, Wide Awake