A Quote by Ed Weeks

What else does anyone have except for a collection of slightly painful memories? — © Ed Weeks
What else does anyone have except for a collection of slightly painful memories?
Infatuation is one of those slightly comic illnesses which are at once so undignified and so painful that a nice-minded world does its best to ignore their existence altogether, referring to them only under provocation and then with apology, but, like its more material brother, this boil on the neck of the spirit can hardly be forgotten either by the sufferer or anyone else in his vicinity. The malady is ludicrous, sad, excruciating and, above all, instantly diagnosable.
Coming out, for me, was slightly painful. It was a relief, but it was also painful.
...to be injured on this tundra would lead to a quick and painful death—or at the very least abject humiliation before the popping flashes of the tourist season's tail end, which was slightly less painful than a painful death, but lasted longer.
Life is simply a collection of memories, but memories are like star light... They live on Forever.
Indeed, the greatest blessing that can follow the death of those we love is reconciliation. Without it there is no peace. But with it come quiet thoughts and quickened memories. And what else shall a man do except become reconciled? What purpose does he serve by fighting what he cannot touch or by brooding upon what he cannot change?
Painful memories are gone! Together, we can build up good memories.
I think it is easier to put yourself down before anyone else does. Or to laugh at yourself before anyone else does.
I'm not doubtful that I am doing what I should be doing - writing for theater - and that I'm doing it in a way no one else does it. Whether anyone else is paying attention or anyone else cares, I'm still ambivalent about that. It's still an open question.
Growth can be painful, change can be painful but nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow it only empties today of it strengths
Like most people, I have painful memories of trying to fit in as a child. I wore, said, and did pretty much what everyone else did.
The pressure to be pretty? I set, you know, boundaries and goals for myself. I try not to compare myself to anyone else because I will never be anyone else except myself. So I try and stay true to me, and hopefully the right projects will come my way.
Why did happy memories fade and blur until one could scarcely recall them at all, while horrible memories seemed to retain their blinding clarity and painful sharpness?
I always felt slightly grubbier than most American people. I was never quite as groomed as everyone else, never quite as fit as anyone else. I didn't have my protein shake and my vitamins.
Unrequited love may be painful, but it is safely painful, because it does not involve inflicting damage on anyone but oneself, a private pain that is as bittersweet as it is self-induced. But as soon as love is reciprocated, one must be prepared to give up the passivity of simply being hurt and take on the responsibility of perpetrating hurt oneself.
At this very moment, I am suffering—as we say in French, j’ai mal. This event, crucial for me, is nonexistent, even inconceivable for anyone else, for everyone else. Except for God, if that word can have a meaning.
The truest test of a democracy is in the ability of anyone to act as he likes, so long as he does not injure the life or property of anyone else.
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