The world is full of boring, identical and mindless people.
Charles Bukowski (via vintague)
the starchaser;i sleep alone, read books like starved people eat, and like pretty stuff. i also watch loads of stuff online, and hoard my books like a mother bear her cubs.
Ask · Archive · ©
Ask · Archive · ©
Its no surprise to me that anyone hardly tells the truth about how they feel. The smart ones keep to themselves for good reason. Why would you want to tell anyone anything that’s dear to you? Even when you like them and want nothing more than to be closer to them? It’s so painful to be next to someone you feel so strongly about and know you can’t say the things you want to.
Henry Rollins (via hellomuhdear)
“I can’t remember who said it, but a soul and a Heaven must exist because good people aren’t rewarded enough on Earth. I always liked that idea and the existence of a soul, if that makes sense.”
Posted on December 31, 2012 · with 10578 notes · via / source
Filed under: #robert pattinson #such a fine man #quote
Filed under: #robert pattinson #such a fine man #quote
You can be lonely even when you are loved by many people, since you are still not anybody’s one and only.
Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl (via ileu)
While I can’t have you, I long for you. I am the kind of person who would miss a train or a plane to meet you for coffee. I’d take a taxi across town to see you for ten minutes. I’d wait outside all night if I thought you would open the door in the morning. If you call me and say ‘Will you…’ my answer is ‘Yes’, before your sentence is out. I spin worlds where we could be together. I dream you. For me, imagination and desire are very close.
Jeanette Winterson (via ileu)
When you reach for the stars, you are reaching for the farthest thing out there. When you reach deep into yourself, it is the same thing, but in the opposite direction. If you reach in both directions, you will have spanned the universe.
Vera Nazarian (via ileu)
Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn’t it.
It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life.
You give them a piece of you. They don’t ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore.
Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase just like “maybe we should be friends” or “how very perceptive” turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.
It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a body-hurt. A real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.
Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love.
Neil Gaiman, The Sandman Volume 9 (via ileu)
