(c)

[othercrazythings]

В некоторых фиках есть потрясающие куски, которые хочется выписать и потом цитировать. Или они несут какую-либо смысловую нагрузку. Ниже и далее, наверное в комментах, я скопипастила цитаты из фиков, которые наиболее понравились. Для себя и возможно ещё кому-то понравится. Всё на английском.

~*~*~*~*

* Don’t worry, I got you pinned down in song. You’ll live forever now. And they’re good songs. Other people will sing them, all over the world. Radios. Concerts. And you will live on. Long after we’re dead, I will still be singing you songs (No Use in Turnin’ on Your Light by arctic_grey)

* I want you to know that I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever met. And I want you to know that there is no one in this world that will ever match the beauty you have (Deadly sin by buildyourwalls)

* Look at you,” Ryan said roughly, his voice tinged with awe. “If I had known how this would shut you up, I would have done it years ago (A Little More Touch Me by iamtheenemy)

* I never feel as complete as when you break me down. (Lie with ammunition by raye6)

* And it's simple happiness, a bit stupid in its nature but also brilliant, not to be helped, and the sort that feels like he'll never get over this, over this mad urge to jump, to be silly like pulling faces and dancing foolishly but at the same time pretend he's not bothered whenever Arthur is near. (Accidental Memory In The Case Of Death by derryere, если не ошибаюсь)

* "I love you,” he says. I can feel my face light up and Ryan smiles. “I wanted to say it in daylight. I don’t… I don’t want it to be whispered late at night when no one can hear it. So there. (Futile wars by arctic_grey)

* After making me smile like this I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. (Infinite, Sometimes by nepenthe_ )

* We are broken boys from broken families who somehow managed to come together. We are late night car rides, back seats of Volvos, and we are windows down no matter how cold. We are products of our past, making our future, but we are living for what we have right now. We are McDonald’s and French fries and dollar menu stomachaches, gallons of Mountain Dew and shared drinks and shared songs. We are music, lyrics, feelings and sounds. We are guitars and strings and frustration and tears, broken strings, broken words, broken souls fixed by songs from people who know where we’ve been. We are fathers and memories and memories of fathers, we are not forgetting, always holding on, only letting go of things that shouldn’t matter. We are from families that taught not by example and instead let us learn the hard way, but for that we are still thankful. We are thankful to have learned at all. We are long walks and long rivers and long silences with long thoughts that lead to short words that mean everything. We are entwined fingers, entwined hearts, connected eyes and one soul. We are living for each other. We are best friends with best friends and two of four people who still feel like kings. We are dances and matching shoes and I don’t want the world to see me, I just want you to know who I am. We are making fun of movies and falling in love all over again over every song from our youth. We are cigarette scars and torn up fingers and the kisses against them, permanent memories of pain that has long since left. We are the future’s souvenirs of how things used to be, and we are examples of strength and dependence and I just need you more than I can say. We are notebooks and writing and emotion on paper, we are typed conversations telling everything, teasing us with distance. We are all night phone calls, sometimes fun, sometimes a lifeline. We are our hands, we hold us together, we are the strength I have to say this: we are our world. Our world is beautiful. (Infinite, Sometimes by nepenthe_ )

* You know, whatever... look, there’s always something that someone has done, out there in the world, worse than what you have done or could do or what you think about. You obviously are opposed to things if they TORTURE you. If you don’t care, and you give in, and you don’t feel disgusted or weirded out, even slightly, THEN you have problems. Otherwise, it’s just thoughts stuck in your head, and it sucks, but they’re there, lurking in the dark spaces of your mind, and, a lot of times, when you’re out in the world, it’s all just put into perspective and you laugh it off, because... it’s just funny, and weird, and you know it. Jack, life is life. It’s hard. Sometimes our minds get the best of us. Sometimes, no amount of famous type-lines mean anything. Sometimes, we fool ourselves so much that we end up having the joke played on us, and things torture us. We know such things... aren’t true. But, they’re there. Everyone has a different kind of torture inside, Jack. Some people have harder tortures to deal with, and that’s why I never judge people by what they appear to be on the outside, because it’s what’s inside that counts. Someone can appear to have the most amazing life, and, inside, be the most tortured person suffering, mentally, with a huge heart. Life is crazy shit. You roll with it. It fucks you up in the head, sometimes. You feel sick. Tell yourself it’s not true, maybe battle for awhile, forget for awhile, and then something else comes back some other time? It’s just part of... everything. It’s even worse when you have time to think about all of that shit in the first place. Let me tell you, Jack, it’s not fun. Don’t beat yourself up. If you get a—okay, I won’t say it, but whatever. You’re sixteen. Bodies are bodies. Oh fucking well. (Welcome home by kristattic)

* Have you ever read something so unbelievably moving that it somehow succeeded in changing your life? Well, not necessarily moving, maybe just pretty, touching, maybe fucking confronting, so in your face that you have to re-read it a few times just to grasp that yea, it actually said that.
And alright, yeah, perhaps it didn’t change your life, didn’t alter you all that dramatically. Maybe it just changed your outlook, changed your perspective, changed that day, that week. If you’re lucky (or maybe unlucky), maybe it changed you.
All they are are simple letters sketched out on a page, written however, with so much thought and intention that it somehow bridges that ocean-wide gap between author and reader and touches something within you. Words that run races past your eyes and down the tubes and roads in your brain to make contact with something so deep inside you that you hadn’t even known it had existed – something that maybe hadn’t existed before you’d read it.
These words are rare, and in reality, have more similarity to an illicit drug than plain literature – these words are like cocaine, heroin, ecstasy, one taste and all you want, all you can think about is how to get your next hit. All you want is more and more and more until the first crappy Disney remake brings you hurtling back down to earth. (Grace by flash_indie)

* But, and this is probably the worst one of all, sometimes the person you get sweaty palms for, doesn’t get sweaty palms back. And this, this hurts. This hurts more than bullets or knives or someone ripping the nails off your toes. This hurts like a clawed fist tearing open your ribcage, fisting your heart and wrenching it free, throwing it and watching as the blood dripdripdrips down the plaster walls of the room. This hurts, because as you stand immobile, your ribcage split open in front of you, you can only watch as the butterflies escape, fly off into the distance only to be splattered by some child with clappy, little hands. (Grace by flash_indie)