So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love — loving the loving of things whose existence she didn’t care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist.
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us; leaving nothing but a memory of the smell of smoke and a presumption that our eyes once watered.
All the lives I could live, all the people I will never know, never will be, they are everywhere. That is all the world is.
“
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The Lazarus Project (via eyots)
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Don’t use words too big for the subject. Don’t say “infinitely” when you mean “very”; otherwise you’ll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.
A man with closed eyes is a wreck of a man.
If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time.
Nobody will stop you from creating. Do it tonight. Do it tomorrow. That is the way to make your soul grow - whether there is a market for it or not! The kick of creation is the act of creating, not anything that happens afterward. I would tell all of you watching this screen: Before you go to bed, write a four line poem. Make it as good as you can. Don’t show it to anybody. Put it where nobody will find it. And you will discover that you have your reward.
I might never be anything for men to lose their heads about, but I need never again be ugly. This knowledge was a song within me. Suddenly it all came together: If you were healthy, fit, and well-dressed, you could be attractive.
Sometimes late at night I think about all the things that have been, all the things that haven’t been and all the things yet to be. If my heart could explode into a billion tiny pieces and scatter themselves all over the world. If I could live on sunlight and the city sounds and fall asleep in those thousands of lighted windows. I wonder if this world will ever make sense to me, if I will ever truly understand anything… and if there’s really anything to understand at all.
onlinejournals:
Remember when you were really weird in our friend’s basement and it was really quiet and my insides were screaming to be nervous and happy and scared and angry all at the same time?
Yeah fuck you for doing that to me.
