166; it’s going to break my heart every day from today onwards

“Oh, I can’t explain. When I like people immensely I never tell their names to any one. It seems like surrendering a part of them. You know how I love secrecy. It is the only thing that can make modern life wonderful or mysterious to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it.” – Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

This quote applies to me every time I feel like this. The feeling that I’m encountering just happened when I saw Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close movie trailer. I love this book so much that I never tell anyone about it, because it’s like surrendering a part of it. I’ve enjoyed it in secrecy and loved it so much that it hurts me. This is the book that kills me. It’s my most favorite book, ever.

And now there are Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock in the movie adaptation. The chance of it staying away from the mainstream-ness is becoming low. The next thing I know is everyone is going to see it, and everyone’s going to buy the book, and everyone’s going to read it.  Then everyone’s going to have read the book in 1-2 months’ time. And then I’ll hear endless talking / fangirling and that is going to annoy the hell out of me. It won’t be the same again.

I just wish it hadn’t been made into a movie. At all.

I’ll go back to crying. I love it so much.

114; Ouch. It hurts. But it’s too true.

“There is no necessity,” rejoined his companion. “Life has always poppies in her hands. Of course, now and then things linger. I once wore nothing but violets all through one season, as a form of artistic mourning for a romance that would not die. Ultimately, however, it did die. I forget what killed it. I think it was her proposing to sacrifice the whole world for me. That is always a dreadful moment. It fills one with the terror of eternity. Well–would you believe it?–a week ago, at Lady Hampshire’s, I found myself seated at dinner next the lady in question, and she insisted on going over the whole thing again, and digging up the past, and raking up the future. I had buried my romance in a bed of asphodel. She dragged it out again and assured me that I had spoiled her life. [...] The one charm of the past is that it is the past. But women never know when the curtain has fallen. They always want a sixth act, and as soon as the interest of the play is entirely over, they propose to continue it.” 

- Lord Henry Wotton to Dorian Gray

111; you put up walls and painted them all a shade of gray, i stood there loving you and washed them all away

A fit of passionate sobbing choked her. She crouched on the floor like a wounded thing, and Dorian Gray, with his beautiful eyes, looked down at her, and his chiselled lips curled in exquisite disdain. There is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love.