Best 14 quotes of Rasmenia Massoud on MyQuotes

A city isn’t so unlike a person. They both have the marks to show they have many stories to tell. They see many faces. They tear things down and make new again.

Every morning, my hangover feels like being born again. My head throbs, like being squeezed and pushed out, fists trembling, throat grunting and wailing in protest of the light, screaming for the comfort of warm, dark silence.

He mentioned the connection between us. He identified with me. These are the things that many people want to hear, that most “normal” people want to be able to truthfully say, but almost no one can.

I thought about how I had now let a self-proclaimed lunatic into my house twice and considered the possibility that my life needed sorting out.

I wondered why humans were even given the gift of speech at all. We no longer needed it; we’ve forgotten to talk about anything. We only waste it.

Lucius didn’t believe in werewolves. He said that people were too horrible for any other monsters to exist, which he thought was a shame.

Maybe I should find another doctor; one who realizes the importance of scars.

Not every daughter mourns the loss of a mother.

The counselor says that with more time and more surgeries, I will begin to feel normal again. She says this with a mouth that can still smile. It’s so easy to be reassuring when you have lips.

The problem with comprehension is, it often comes too late.

We knew it was only a moment. Our days of cool were numbered. Even when we were in it, right now was already gone. We didn’t know what it would be. Maybe a man. A baby. A death. What we knew was that soon, we’d pass thirty and get wrapped up in dull, adult things with no time or energy leftover to work at being cool. Just like that. Whoosh. Zoom. It’s over, and we’re here. From past to present.

We laughed the way that only people who carry each other back from Hell can laugh when they finally get a hunger for the future once again.

Whatever it is that you know, or that you don’t know, tell me about it. We can exchange tirades. The comma is my favorite piece of punctuation and I’ve got all night.

When I walked into the room, I looked down to the floor and saw that each and every garment I owned had been pulled from its rightful place and had been meticulously sliced into countless pieces. One thing was painfully obvious to me: these clothes were symbolic of me; they represented my body. What you really wanted was to slice me into countless pieces.