Loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.
—Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
Cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. The less I needed, the better I felt.
—Charles Bukowski, Let it Enfold You
(Source: downthe-oubliette)
There’s this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo. It’s the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me.
—Gretchen Kemp
(Source: th1s1snottheend)
Heart weeps.
Head tries to help heart.
Head tells heart how it is, again:
You will lose the ones you love. They will all go. But even the earth will go, someday.
Heart feels better, then.
But the words of head do not remain long in the ears of heart.
Heart is so new to this.
I want them back, says heart.
Head is all heart has.
Help, head. Help heart.
—Lydia Davis, Varieties of Disturbance
(Source: fleurishes)
I love you as much as the amount of cigarettes I have smoked.
—京 (街灯/Street light)
(Source: translationchannel)
If you were mine, I’d kiss your ankles and neck and the tip of your nose. I’d bring you film canisters filled with love notes and interesting books and I’d send you texts with random facts whenever I discovered something new. I’d show up at your house at midnight with a pot of your favourite kind of tea and a blanket and tell you to come down so we could lie down on your lawn and look at the stars. I’d go into the city with you and throw away your map and search for someplace beautiful. I’d photograph you every day. I’d buy you baggy t-shirts and sing to you constantly. I’d give you your space if you wanted it, I’d make you mixes for every week we’d been together, I’d hold your hand underwater, and I’d love you until you asked me not to.
—Camryn Pulaski Day
(Source: atomos)
He broke my heart. You merely broke my life.
—Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita
(Source: proustitute)
It took a special kind of guts to be a fuckup as a woman, I thought. To say to hell with being the nice girl, the responsible one, the one who makes sure the man takes care of himself and eats properly and doesn’t take too many drugs. To be just as nihilistic and self-destructive as a man, knowing all along that you’ll get crucified for it, because somehow, the world will make everything your fault. He’ll be a martyr, and you’ll be a succubus. He’ll be a genius and you’ll be a groupie, He’ll be a hero, and you’ll be an ugly fat crack whore who deserves to die.
— Rachel Shukert, on Courtney Love
(Source: eredit)
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
—Albert Einstein
