Close the laundry door, tiptoe across the floor keep your clothes on, I got all that I can take. Teach me how to use the love that people say you made.
Stop your parents’ car. I just saw a shooting star. We can wish upon it but we wont share the wish we made but I cant keep no secrets, I wish that you would always stay.
Last night I dreamt the whole night long. I woke with a head full of songs. I spent the whole day I wrote ‘em down, but its a shame tonight I’ll burn the lyrics,’cause every chorus was your name
Break this tired old routine and this time don’t make me leave."
The only exercise that Tess took at this time was after dark; and she knew it was then, when out in the woods, that she seemed least solitary. She knew how to hit to a hair’s-breath the moment of evening when light and dark are so evenly balanced that the constraint of day and suspense of night are so evenly balanced that the constraint of day and suspense of night neutralize each other, leaving absolute mental liberty. It is then that the plight of being alive becomes attenuated to its least possible dimensions. She had no fear of shadows; her sole idea seemed to be to shun mankind—or rather that cold accretion that we call the world, which, so terrible in the mass, is so unformidable, even pitiable, in units.