February 2012
28 posts
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“You see I usually find myself among strangers because I drift here and there...”
– F. Scott Fitzgerald (via approachingstarlight)
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“Speaking frightens me because, by never saying enough, I also say too much.”
– Jacques Derrida, French Philosopher (1930-2004)
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“We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of...”
– T. S. Eliot (via babotofu)
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feel
I keep imagining a knife through two bars of my rib-cage scooping my heart out, just imagine that feeling. Just imagine holding your real heart in your hands, nerves and all, still pumping with the same strength, the raw thick honesty and realness of blood making its way down in rivers, tracing your wrists, coursing down your forearms. Imagine that in the midst of all this goddamn uninspiring...
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“Do you really love me? means, Will you accept me in process? Will you embrace...”
– Angela Thomas (via heoro)
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January 2012
34 posts
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“One of the great problems of history is that the concepts of love and power have...”
– Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
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“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his...”
– Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (via babotofu)
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‘Guide to Vague Relationships’ (via Thought Catalog)
“Is the meaning of life to get excited about someone, genuinely feel interested in what he says, try to make him feel interested in what you say, make your bodies touch a lot, then ‘mess up’ somehow, have a long discussion where you ‘talk about a lot’ but don’t actually talk about anything although you tell yourselves you’ve reached...
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“Differences are not intended to separate, to alienate. We are different...”
– Desmond Tutu (via loveyourchaos)
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“I hate the idea that people are defined by sex, period. By how they have sex, or...”
– Rookie Mag (via cultureofresistance)
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moledro
dictionaryofobscuresorrows:
n. a feeling of resonant connection with an author or artist you’ll never meet, who may have lived centuries ago and thousands of miles away but can still get inside your head and leave behind morsels of their experience, like the little piles of stones left by hikers that mark a hidden path through unfamiliar territory.