What passes relentlessly through the years is blood, and time; all the bitterness or warmth along the way is almost incidental. Even blood gets forgotten eventually, bleached into myth which are bleached of all colour into ashes of myth. — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
Love could be fractured and serve different purposes, and that intense love could be divided, between people just as easily as between moments of… — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
“Not only good to be alive, but nice to come with a stranger. Intimacy? For now I want nothing of it. I am simply… — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
You're beautiful, but you're somewhere else. That's okay. I can handle that. But we won't continue as friends, not just now. I like you… — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
Some people are attracted to sickness, to the kind of madness where sparks fly off the head, to the incoherence of despair, masked by… — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
From time to time it has struck me that as a writer, I've somehow managed to live my life as I had long ago… — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
Everything comes to nothing in the end, I suppose. Or at least, nothing happens exactly the way we imagine it. — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
The very concept of solid ground is a myth. The galaxy itself is adrift. — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
“His eyes are huge and black. I think about desire. There are flickerings that occur, and we know very little about them. Millimetres of… — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
When you can stop you don't want to, and when you want to stop, you can't... — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
“All summer it feels as if it will rain soon. All summer the strange feeling, 'something will break.” — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
“For every gain there is a sacrifice, and the removal of the parasite sometimes entails removal of the host.” — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
“What everyone fails to notice, when talking to the other humans, to mothers and lovers and strangers in the streeet, is the one obvious… — Luke Davies Copy Share Image
