Last night, I dreamt about you... :-(
Frak my memory! Seriously; sideways, hard, dry, and raw! The simple act of making a turkey and stuffing sandwich just reminded me of [name redacted], and what she would have said it needed! Great; like I wasn't in enough pain already. I really hate my brain sometimes. :-(
- The Mad Sonneteer (born: 17 October 1968)
“We all have our time machines, don't we. Those that take us back are memories...And those that carry us forward, are dreams.” - H.G. Wells (died: 13 August 1946)
“I can see you, your brown skin shining in the sun. You’ve got your hair slicked back, and those Wayfarers on...”
"We all have our time machines, don't we. Those that take us back are memories...And those that carry us forward, are dreams." - H.G. Wells (born: 21 September 1866)
"We all have our time machines, don't we. Those that take us back are memories...And those that carry us forward, are dreams." - H.G. Wells (died: 13 August 1946)
'Cause I still dream about you. :-(
"I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom." - Edgar Allan Poe (born: 19 January 1809)
"The prehistoric man was cursing us, praying to us, welcoming us—who could tell? We were cut off from the comprehension of our surroundings; we glided past like phantoms, wondering and secretly appalled, as sane men would be before an enthusiastic outbreak in a madhouse. We could not understand because we were too far and could not remember because we were travelling in the night of first ages, of those ages that are gone, leaving hardly a sign—and no memories." - Joseph Conrad (born: 3 December 1857)
"I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom." - Edgar Allan Poe (died: 7 October 1849)