She had all sorts of wonderful idiosyncrasies. You know what? She used to fart in her sleep. Sorry I shared that with you. One night it was so loud it woke the dog up. She woke up and goes, “Oh was that you?” and I said yeah. I didn’t have the heart to tell her. Oh Christ, but Will, she’s been dead two years and that’s the shit I remember. Wonderful stuff, you know, little things like that. Those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. That’s what made her my wife. Oh, and she had the goods on me too. She knew all my little peccadilloes. People call these things imperfections, but they’re not. That’s the good stuff. And then we get to choose who we let into our weird little worlds.
Sean Maguire, Good Will Hunting
Foo Fighters — Stranger Things Have Happened
When you return I am going to give you one literary fuck fest — that means fucking and talking and talking and fucking. Anaïs, I am going to open your very groins. God forgive me if this letter is ever opened by mistake. I can’t help it. I want you. I love you. You’re food and drink to me, the whole bloody machinery as it were. Lying on top of you is one thing, but getting close to you is another. I feel close to you, one with you, you’re mine, whether it is acknowledged or not.
Henry Miller in a letter to Anaïs Nin
The Cure — The End of the World