Why didn’t I learn to treat everything like it was the last time? My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future. Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

(Source: seabois)


▲788 | reblog

What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music…. And people flock around the poet and say: ‘Sing again soon’ - that is, ‘May new sufferings torment your soul but your lips be fashioned as before, for the cry would only frighten us, but the music, that is blissful. Søren Kierkegaard, Either - Or (via cite-belle)
▲32 | reblog

Things are sweeter when they’re lost. I know—because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly…And when I got it it turned to dust in my hands. F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned

(Source: larmoyante)


▲1904 | reblog

Experts in ancient Greek culture say that people back then didn’t see their thoughts as belonging to them. When ancient Greeks had a thought, it occurred to them as a god or goddess giving an order. Apollo was telling them to be brave. Athena was telling them to fall in love.

Now people hear a commercial for sour cream potato chips and rush out to buy, but now they call this free will.

At least the ancient Greeks were being honest.

 Chuck Palahniuk (via lucifelle)
▲180 | reblog

Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls. Joseph Campbell (via konagrown)

(Source: ashleytwright)


▲122 | reblog

In chaos, there is fertility. Anaïs Nin

(Source: fernsandmoss)


▲392 | reblog

Month by month things are losing their hardness; even my body now lets the light through; my spine is soft like wax near the flame of the candle.
I dream; I dream. Virginia Woolf, The Waves

(Source: sparemefromthemold)


▲274 | reblog

I feel too much. That’s what’s going on. Do you think one can feel too much? Or just feel in the wrong ways? My insides don’t match up with my outsides. Do anyone’s insides and outsides match up? I don’t know. I’m only me. Maybe that’s what a person’s personality is: the difference between the inside and outside. But it’s worse for me. I wonder if everyone thinks it’s worse for him. Probably. But it really is worse for me. Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

(Source: quote-book)


▲3384 | reblog

The string between them grew incredibly long, so long it had to be extended with many other strings tied together: his yo-yo string, the pull from her talking doll, the twine that had fastened his father’s diary, the waxy string that had kept her grandmother’s pearls around her neck and off the floor, the string that had separated his great-uncle’s childhood quilt from a pile of rags. Contained within everything they shared with one another were the yo-yo, the doll, the diary, the necklace, and the quilt. They had more and more to tell each other, and less and less string. Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

(Source: -lestrange)


▲13 | reblog

I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because ‘romantic’ doesn’t mean ‘sugary.’ It’s dark and tormented — the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can’t attain. Catherine Breillat (via halfstrippedtrees)

(Source: wlate)


▲6879 | reblog

And whoso passeth into the outermost Abyss—except he be of them that understand—holdeth out his hands, and boweth his neck, unto the Chains of Choronzon. And as a devil he walketh about the earth, immortal, and he blasteth the flowers of the earth, and he corrupteth the fresh air, and he maketh poisonous the water; and the fire that is the friend of man, and the pledge of his aspiration, seeing that it mounteth ever upward as a Pyramid, and seeing that man stole it in a hollow tube from Heaven—even that fire he turneth into ruin, and madness, and fever, and destruction. Therion speaking about the bastard of the Svastika

(Source: aptrgangr)


▲10 | reblog

We’re all just walking each other home. Ram Dass (via loveyourchaos)

(Source: shaktilover)


▲1335 | reblog

If he can only perform good or only perform evil, then he is a clockwork orange—meaning that he has the appearance of an organism lovely with colour and juice but is in fact only a clockwork toy to be wound up by God or the Devil or (since this is increasingly replacing both) the Almighty State. It is inhuman to be totally good as it is to be totally evil. Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange

(Source: oliviaalaine)


▲18 | reblog

It’s like I realised that way down inside, I’ve always been lonely for something. But I don’t know what for. It’s like… everybody in the world wants something. Only they never really know exactly what it is - they just keep finding out what it’s not. You know how, when you turn off the TV or you come out of some concert, and everything just feels… empty? Like you thought that would be what you wanted, and then it wasn’t? Author Unknown (via 99lions)
▲101 | reblog