It’s when you hide things that you choke on them.
written by Charles Bukowski (via modernmethadone)

(via patheticparts)

Find what you love and let it kill you.
written by Charles Bukowski  (via brutalite)

(via 009821)

I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.
written by F. Scott Fitzgerald (via modernmethadone)

(Source: heydrago, via patheticparts)

Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?
written by Haruki Murakami (via skeletonized)

(via driedfat)

I discovered that I am tired of being a person. Not just tired of being the person I was, but any person at all.
written by Susan Sontag (via vashti)

(Source: decrepito, via vermeers)

I’ve had that kind of experience myself: I’m looking at a map and I see someplace that makes me think, ‘I absolutely have to go to this place, no matter what’. And most of the time, for some reason, the place is far away and hard to get to. I feel this overwhelming desire to know what kind of scenery the place has, or what people are doing there. It’s like measles - you can’t show other people exactly where the passion comes from. It’s curiosity in the purest sense. An inexplicable inspiration.
written by Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 (via theskeletonofme)

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.
written by Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten (via muede)

(via hilside)

I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of the throat and I’d cry for a week.
written by Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (via praetendere)

(via loserlillie)

The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.
written by Fernando Pessoa (via fernandopessoa-is-not-for-you)

(Source: decrepito, via quicksleeping-equator-deactivat)

If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.
written by Haruki Murakami (via salveo)

(via vileallure)