As the moon began to rust Quotes

“Sometimes it's hard to tell what derails a train and with life, it is the same.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“Lies with their face on, that’s what promises are. But they can wear as much concealer as they like: it won’t last them through the rain.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“The wrong things draw you in like the Sunday sun the eyes. You would stare straight at it and wonder if there is something somewhere out there, other than depressing sunny days and lonely Sundays: something more and when you would take your eyes out of the sun again, you'd only see red spots as if the light forgot them on your retina and then you would stand around and ponder why your eyes would always wander towards the it, although you don't want them to and actually know that it does harm.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“It's always the same with relationships: As if they were a fancy sheepskin jacket, you get yourself one to stay warm on cold winter nights and show it off a bit. At first, it fits you perfectly until suddenly it becomes too loose, too tight, too long, too wide and from then on you don't look after it anymore. You stop taking care of it, throw up all over it on the next binge, and when you wake up in the morning the whole house smells of wet sheep and stomach acid. That's how, sooner rather than later, it ends up in the old clothes container and even though you promise yourself that next time you'll buy the expensive care product that the saleswoman with the fake smile has tried to sell you, you still won't do it, because it sounds like effort and who would put any into something they'll end up losing anyway?”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“It's always the same with relationships: As if they were a fancy sheepskin jacket, you get yourself one to stay warm on cold winter nights and show it off a bit. At first, it fits you perfectly until suddenly it becomes too loose, too tight, too long, too wide and from then on you just don't look after it anymore. You stop taking care of it, throw up all over it on the next binge, and when you wake up in the morning the whole house smells of wet sheep and stomach acid. That's how, sooner rather than later, it ends up in the old clothes container and even though you promise yourself that next you'll buy the expensive care product that the saleswoman with the fake smile has tried to sell you, you still won't do it, as it sounds like effort and who would put any work into something they end up losing, anyway?”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“He had spat her on the street like a chewed out chewing gum but stumbled into her again every now and then and for some reason she just kept sticking. Maybe a little less each time it happened, but if she was going to be stuck on him much longer she would only ruin his brand-new shoes.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“That is the biggest problem with the truth: When you don't lock it in, it escapes you and, like a stray, it may be taken in by someone else.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“Love is the glass of water that is put in front of you at a wild party. As you get drunk, you reach for it, hoping it will do you good. But then you abuse it as an ashtray at 3 o'clock in the morning and the next time you drink from it, it tastes toxic and makes you want to puke.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“For Tom she was a bit like the dishes from the food joint next door. A huge plate full of flavor, and tasting it, you'd hunger for more. But too much of it affects your stomach. You cannot really have it more often than once a month, because even though you actually love every bite of it, you can't digest it very well.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“That's the biggest problem regarding the truth: Once it has escaped you, it is a stray and may be taken in by someone else.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“Like an old chewing gum, he had spat her on the ground but happened to stumble into her every now and then, and for some reason she just kept sticking. Maybe a little less each time it happened, but if she was going to be stuck on him much longer, she would only ruin his brand-new shoes.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“Love is the glass of water that is put in front of you at wild parties: Getting drunk, you reach for it, hoping it would do you good. But then you abuse it as an ashtray at 3 in the morning and the next time you drink from it, it tastes toxic and makes you want to puke.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“Fried rice with chicken in sweet-sour curry was what he'd normally end up with. With spring rolls and crab chips on top, even though he didn't even like and actually only took them because they came for free. A bit like Helen whenever she came over...”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“What do you do with the truth, anyway? Does it even have a purpose? Or do you merely receive it, take it to the attic, and bury it underneath old photos in the creaking drawer of a dusty shelf, where you forget it until asked for it by someone else?”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“It's always the same with relationships: like a fancy sheepskin jacket you would get yourself some to stay warm on cold winter nights and show them off a bit. At first, they would fit you perfectly until they would suddenly become too loose, too tight, too long, too short and from then on you would just not look after them any more. You would stop taking care of them, throw up all over them on the next binge and when you would wake up in the morning, the whole house would smell like wet sheep and stomach acid. Sooner rather than later, they would end up in the old clothes container and although you would promise yourself that next time you'd buy the expensive care product that the saleswoman with the fake smile has tried to sell you, you still won't do it, as it sounds like a lot effort and who would put any into something they end up losing, anyway?”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“He wore desperation like a comfy coat and, snuggled into it, he would feel relieved, because without hope you will never get disappointed again and won’t disappoint anyone else.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“People have always been hiding their problems behind an era like a playboy magazine under a bed. It’s always the century that is to blame until it becomes history. And blaming it, people would forget a bit that it is them who are meant to shape it.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“You feel the worst kind of lost when someone is looking for something in you.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“It gave him hope: something he had been trying to give up like a too big flat, where you don't feel safe, but only lost. Like too big shoes that will never fit your feet and forever leave disturbing blisters.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“Five minutes sound like nothing, but a lot can happen in only five. It doesn't take much longer to father a child and if you do it right, in five you can even die.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“The world had changed its attire in spring and what it was wearing now was a perfect fit to what it was deep inside: a controlling old slag who didn't care about anyone’s wishes and would ignore everyone who wouldn't live by her rules. Tom was finished with that cunt: the world behind the fogged up windows. He used to live in one of his own: a dirty but well-protected one that nobody had ever entered, since everyone who even tried was to be shot before they could make it over the threshold.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“The past year had shrunk the world. In the hot wash and to be honest, washing it had been a bad idea all along. It should have gotten trashed, instead, given the dirt it had accumulated.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“Love is such a waste! It’s a glass of water which is put in front of you at a party. Getting drunk, you’d reach for it, hoping it would do you good. But then you’d abuse it as an ashtray at three o'clock in the morning and the next time you would drink from it, it would only taste toxic and make you want to puke.”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust

“Sometimes you'd just forget the truth like a language you haven't spoken in for years: when you would try again in a quiet hour, you'd only stutter and falter. You would make a fool of yourself and promise you wouldn't ever try again. But over one too many drinks you would be trying, anyway, which would be when fluently you’d speak languages you wouldn’t even know when sober. The truth that sober Tom had unlearned was turning him into an alcoholic. Constantly it kept coaxing him to drink, because he couldn't get it out any other way .”
― Sima B. Moussavian, As the moon began to rust