“But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human.” — Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five (via spacemadchen)

(Source: theunquotables, via serendipitousmusings)



“To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else’s heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.” — Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera
(via ughpoems)

(via serendipitousmusings)



“What makes cinema so attractive, so fascinating is that it’s not just a one plus one process. It’s a chemistry between sounds, words, ideas & image.” — Wong Kar-Wai (via jolieing)

(Source: bisoushells, via jadorelavie)



“She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately—- a thousand eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us an we in each other’s arm oblivious. I sit down beside her and she talks—- a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy. I hear not a word because she is beautiful and I love her and now I am happy and willing to die.” — Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer (via valsez)

(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via valsez)



“The secret of the world is this: the world is entirely circular and you will go round and round endlessly, never finding what you want, unless you have found what you really want inside yourself. When you follow a star you know you will never reach that star; rather it will guide you to where you want to go. It’s a reference point, not an end in itself, even though you seem to be following it. So it is with the world. It will only ever lead you back to yourself. The end of all your exploring will be to cease from exploration and know the place for the first time.” — Jeanette Winterson (via rustic-romantic)

(via cactoids)



“Sometimes, carrying on, just carrying on, is the superhuman achievement.” — Albert Camus, The Fall (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: larmoyante, via ladespeinada)



“So plant your own gardens and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.” — Jorge Luis Borges (via yeswecancan)

(via crtk)



“I guess when you’re young, you just believe there’ll be many people with whom you’ll connect with. Later in life, you realize it only happens a few times.” — Celine, Before Sunset   (via passionnedenoir)

(Source: memereve, via echosfadeout)


2 weeks ago · 5,812 notes (© memereve)
#Before Sunset #quote

“The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death — however mutable man may be able to make them — our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfillment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.” — Stanley Kubrick 1968 (via micaceous)

(via micaceous)


2 weeks ago · 715 notes (© euo)
#stanley kubrick #quote

“April is the cruelest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.” — T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land (via viage)

(Source: petrichour, via pullmybauhaus)


2 weeks ago · 12,370 notes (© petrichour)
#ts eliot #quote

“It’s a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, “more like deer than human beings.” To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn.” — Donna Tartt, The Secret History (via nathanielfick)

(Source: piscula, via quievi)



“I used to think that I could never lose anyone if I photographed them enough. In fact, my pictures show me how much I’ve lost.” — Nan Goldin (via free-parking)

(via romeo-isbleeding)



“I have to be positive,” he says, “because when it comes down to it—how do I say this without sounding really revolting?—you have to get up every day with love in your heart.”
He pauses, his face frozen in a wince.
“There you go. I sound like some sort of lunatic. I’ll just say I haven’t slept much.” —

Thom Yorke, 2006, herevia (via autobeguiled)

i’ve been thinking about this quote a lot recently. 

(via autobeguiled)

(Source: compartmentalising, via mizoguchi)



“She stubs out her cigarette in the brown glass ashtray, then settles herself against him, ear to his chest. She likes to hear his voice this way, as if it begins not in his throat, but in his body, like a hum or a growl, or like a voice speaking from deep underground. Like the blood moving through her own heart: a word, a word, a word.” — Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via filthiestlaughfuckyeahexistentialism)

(via quievi)



I looked at all the trees and didn’t know what to do.

A box made out of leaves.
What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless.

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.
I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.

From the landscape: a sense of scale.
From the dead: a sense of scale.

I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority.
Everything casts a shadow.

Your body told me in a dream it’s never been afraid of anything.

” — Richard Siken, "Detail of the Woods" (via to-be-tender)

(Source: notebookings, via booradleyy)