And when the hand touched his shoulder again, he somehow found the strength to run.
Dear Randall Flagg, sorry, I know you’re a recurring, undying villain, probably an inter-dimensional Satan or some other personification of EEEEEEEEEEVIL, but I just can’t take you seriously when your eyes are looking in different directions. Sorry.
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want for nothing. He makes me lie down in the green pastures. He greases up my head with oil. He gives me kung-fu in the face of my enemies. Amen
i lik e this opeming more than i should„,fuck
Maybe, there aren’t any such things as good friends or bad friends- maybe there are just friends, people who stand by you when you’re hurt and who help you feel not so lonely. Maybe they’re always worth being scared for, and hoping for, and living for. Maybe worth dying for, too, if that’s what has to be. No good friends. No bad friends. Only people you want, need to be with; people who build their houses in your heart.
“Boadicea” - Enya










