Flux

قلبي طيّب بس لساني زقيق، منيب أهرج واجد لكن كلماتي مثل الحلتيت، رشّة وحدة و يغدي كلش مرّ

[wordsnquotes]

“I am strangely tired, not from having talked so much but at the mere thought of what I still have to say.”

— Albert Camus, The Fall

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Tokyo Story (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“And, the dreadful summer is coming again on me—”

— Takuboku Ishikawa, from “Romaji Diary & Sad Toys,” published c. 1985

[ardor-mohr]

“Each time that one (that I) surrender to one’s vanities, each time that one thinks and lives for the sake of ‘appearing,’ one betrays…It is not necessary to deliver oneself to others, but only to those whom one loves. For then it is no longer delivering oneself in order to appear, but only in order to give. There is much more force in a man who appears only when he must. To go to the end, that means to know how to guard one’s secret. I have suffered from being alone, but in order to have kept my secret, I conquered the suffering of being alone. And today, I know no greater glory than to live alone and unknown.”

— Susan Sontag, Reborn: Early Diaries 1947-1963 [Undated]

[faglick]

[quotablewomen]

Cried yesterday morning: as if it were an hour for keening: why is crying so pleasurable? I feel clean, absolutely purged after it.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals; p. 459 (via readingsylviaplath)

[aspiritualwarrior]

You seem to want instant insight, forgetting that the instant is always preceded by a long preparation. The fruit falls suddenly, but the ripening takes time.

Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj (via aspiritualwarrior)

[insomniacentra1]

just a clot of nerves rolling around and snow-balling in the pit of my stomach. The physical symptoms are crippling. I skip several breaths. I die a thousand deaths in between. I lose my grip. I'm consumed. bang bang. it knocks me out.

[nw97]

إن الفكر الإنساني لا يستطيع أن يتوقف أو يفرغ من عملياته.. إنه مفروض عليه أن يعاني ويتعذب، موغلاً في رحلة هائمة دائمة في كون متوحش لا يمكن الفراغ منه ولا الفرار.. في كون لا تطاق رؤيته، ولا يستطاع الكف عن رؤيته.. في كون لايمكن فهمه، ولا التخلي عن محاولة فهمه.

عبدالله القصيمي، أيها العقل.. من رآك؟ (via nw97)

[wordsnquotes]

I don’t know what’s the matter with me—why I’m so adept at distance, why I feel so remote from things, why life feels like a rumor.

David Shields, How Literature Saved My Life (via wordsnquotes)

[forgottengenres]

When I’m lying in my bed I think about life and I think about death and neither one particularly appeals to me.

Steven Patrick Morrissey (via clash-official)

[karina-padilla]

[firstclassmovies]

THE COLOR OF POMEGRANATES (1969). Sergei Parajanov directs this lush Soviet biography based on the life of Armenian poet Sayat Nova.

[thequotejournals]

We live in an age where we feel guilt whenever we have to cut someone off but the reality is that some relationships do need to die, some people do need to be unfollowed and defriended. We aren’t meant to be this tethered to the people in our past. The Internet mandates that we don’t burn bridges and keep everyone around like relics but those expectations are unrealistic and unhealthy. Simply put, we don’t need to know what everyone else is up to. We’re allowed to be choosy about who we surround ourselves with online and in real life, even if it might hurt people’s feelings.

Ryan O’Connell, You Don’t Have To Be Friends With Everybody (via thequotejournals)

[flyingdipshit-moved]

[trulysad]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

And I knew it. That’s the worst part: I knew it.

Marguerite Duras, from The North China Lover: A Novel (via violentwavesofemotion)