can’t stop won’t stop
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@charmingbipolaroid
can’t stop won’t stop
Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.
Franz Kafka (via itsquoted)
So much more fun
This is my plan. Just replace cable with internet. Boom, rest of life planned
…the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’
Jack Kerouac
(via lonequixote)
If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she’s late? Nobody.
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye (via wordsnquotes)
I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own.
Richard Siken, "Wishbone" (via 5000letters)
The language of flowers.
Will be useful for "Every Flower Has A Story"
Punny
寂び by sunnywinds* on Flickr.
First we feel. Then we fall.
Joyce, James. Finnegans Wake. (via wordsnquotes)
I am made and remade continually. Different people draw different words from me.
Woolf Virginia. The Waves. (via wordsnquotes)
I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (via feellng)
I am
I HATE THIS TIME OF YEAR wahhh
Uuuuugggghhhhh
Oh, hey Anna, I hear you arent sleeping as of late. Insomnia at its finest. Here's a night terror just for you!! I thought there was a huge raccoon in my house. Think of an R.O.U.S. From the princess bride. It scratched my door 4 times and I could hear it walking in the hall. So I yelled at my brother and we searched the house for a fucking raccoon. Cool.
Philip Larkin, "This Be The Verse"
They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you. But they were fucked up in their turn By fools in old-style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another’s throats. Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don’t have any kids yourself.
(submitted by bearinthewoods)
Talking in Bed by Philip Larkin
jessica731:
Talking in bed ought to be easiest, Lying together there goes back so far, An emblem of two people being honest. Yet more and more time passes silently. Outside, the wind’s incomplete unrest Builds and disperses clouds in the sky, And dark towns heap up on the horizon. None of this cares for us. Nothing shows why At this unique distance from isolation It becomes still more difficult to find Words at once true and kind, Or not untrue and not unkind.
Ahhh I recited this for my very first poetry class at University. It struck me then, just as it does now-as all of his poems do.
Life without illusion is a ghastly affair.
Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry (via violentwavesofemotion)
Totes