I want to do with You what the spring does with the cherry trees.
I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element. It is...– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (via heartmindspirit) I should probably read this every morning.
Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?– Albert Camus (the age old question) (via fuckyeahexistentialism) (via lamuserevoltee) (via milkdrop) (via chastity) (via bunnysuit) (via wahnbriefe)(via ennelletti)(via solitaryman)
And we all seem to need the help Of someone else ...
Your questioning eyes are sad. They seek to know my meaning as the moon would...– Rabindranath Tagore, The Gardener (via minnielovesbooks)
It was too frightening to be under the burden of all the insoluble questions of...– “Sometimes Pierre remembered stories he had heard about how soldiers at war, taking cover under enemy fire, when there is nothing to do, try to find some occupation for themselves so as to endure the danger more easily. And to Pierre all people seemed to be such soldiers, saving themselves from...
No matter how often I may be told, “You cannot understand the meaning of life so...– Leo Tolstoy (A Confession)
To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower Hold infinity...– William Blake (via bordeauxblack)
I think it’s much more interesting to live not knowing than to have answers...– Richard Feynman (via helvetebrann)
I think, therefore I am is the statement of an intellectual who underrates...– Milan Kundera (Immortality)
"When We Are Lost" by Carson McCullers
libraryland: When we are lost what image tells? Nothing resembles nothing. Yet nothing Is not blank. It is configured Hell: Of noticed clocks on winter afternoons, malignant stars, Demanding furniture. All unrelated And with air between. The terror. Is it of Space, of Time? Or the joined trickery of both conceptions? To the lost, transfixed among the self-inflicted ruins, All that is...
Man is a mystery. It needs to be unraveled, and if you spend your whole life...– Fyodor Dostoyevsky (via aaudioboxerr)
recycled soul: “Going out for Cigarettes” by Billy... →
crashinglybeautiful: It’s a story as famous as the three little pigs: one evening a man says he is going out for cigarettes, closes the door behind him and is never heard from again, not one phone call, not even a postcard from Rio. For all anyone knows, he walks straight into the distance like a line from Euclid’s notebooks and vanishes with the smoke he blows into the soft humid air, smoke...
The Sun, with all the planets revolving around it, and depending on it, can...– Galileo Galilei (via heartmindspirit)
The angel asks: do you feel life? And I reply: life hurts.– Rainer Maria Rilke (via crypte)
“Republicans want to shut down the government because they think there is...– Harry Reid, on the Senate floor this morning. (via loveyourchaos)
Capitol Hill is seriously pissing me off. ...
crashinglybeautiful: They can be like a sun, words. They can do for the heart what light can for a field. ~ St. John of the Cross Thank you, Love is a Place.
"C'est tellement mystérieux, le pays des larmes."
itstheleb: It is such a secret place, the land of tears
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses...– Sylvia Plath (The Bell Jar) This, along with Walt Whitman’s meditation on a summer spear of grass were what came to mind today while curled up in the fetal position laying in the grass.