Gateway to the Mind

“Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.”

[lifeismerelymadness]

There will always be better writers than you and there will always be smarter writers than you. There will always be people who are much better at doing this or that but, you are the only you. There are better writers out there than me, people who can plot better. But there’s nobody who can write a Neil Gaiman story like I can.

Neil Gaiman (via lifeismerelymadness)

[watchoutforintellect]

I am free,’ he said suddenly. And his joy changed, on the spot, to a crushing sense of anguish.

Jean-Paul Sartre - from The Reprieve

[torture-doll]

He saw the darkness in her beauty. She saw the beauty in his darkness.

Anonymous  (via wolfiebak)

[aldexa]

[wordsnquotes]

On the whole, human beings want to be good, but not too good, and not quite all the time.

George Orwell, All Art Is Propaganda (via rssian)

[howl-hatter]

Fiction is one of the cruelest drugs in the universe, because it makes us feel like the reality that we live in is crap.

Dan Howell (via followhertowonderland)

[nizariat]

You are very lucky if you have someone to whom you can tell about your bad behaviours without them thinking that you are a bad person, but because they know that what is inside you is purer and more beautiful. أنت محظوظ جدا إن كنت تملك شخصا تحكي له تصرفاتك السئة دون أن يفكر بأنك شخص سيء، لأنه يعرف جيدا أن الذي بداخلك أنقى و أجمل

(via vposhx)

[darshanasuresh]

I am hungry for – something. For the sun, maybe. Stop telling me about Icarus burning and tell me about dragons instead. About how their bodies are fire in themselves, how they burn like her eyes do when I say her name. If not dragons, tell me about phoenixes. Tell me about how they burn and burn and burn and yet they still come back. It may be routine, it may be because they don’t have another choice, but they come back anyway. Keep your Icarus’ and Phaethons’ away. Lock them in Pandora’s box, maybe. Fly them towards the moon instead. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Here’s what does: candle flames, flickering. The sun, ever growing, one day so large it will swallow the earth whole. My hunger. Here is me flying towards the sun. Here is the sun falling.

FLAMES by Darshana Suresh (via francisabernthy)

[medeae]

There really isn’t much to say, except: I hope you can taste my apology in the way we fuck so hard against the wall the ground shakes.

S-O-R-R-Y, Venetta O. (via medeae)

[alert-deactivated20190508]

A bouquet of clumsy words: You know that place between sleep and awake where you’re still dreaming, but it’s slowly slipping? I wish we could feel like that more often. I also wish I could click my fingers three times and be transported to anywhere I like. I wish that people didn’t always say “just wondering” when you both know there was a real reason behind them asking. And I wish I could get lost in the stars. Listen, there’s a hell of a universe out there. Let’s go.

E.E. Cummings (via alert)

[wnq-writers]

Her soul belongs to words and books. Every time she reads, she is home.

Bshayer F.R.  (via wordsnquotes)

[kalpansh]

We saunter through bursting hallways, waves parting to make way for us. This is our kingdom. We rule with little effort. Bleary eyes and shameless yawns, highlighters twirling between perfect fingers. Loose sheets flutter out of half-closed binders. Our nails end in barbs, our hair smell of honey and apples, we have disco-ball eyes, and ambrosia slides off our backs. We drink in this life, this madness, this despairing song. Poison coating our lips, a cherry-red pout like Cupid’s bow; we chew gossip and mint toffee and spit out metal-tipped rumours. They explode in shrapnel. Our war-cry isn’t a roar or a snarl. It is a laugh like the jingle of candy store doorbells, and the click-click-clicking staccato of heels is our anthem. We sit on thrones built of lies, but we are no queen bees. We do not rest sated in our hives, letting the drones work, no. We are black widows, and we spin our webs wide and tight. Our Word is law and its jurisdiction reaches beyond locker rooms. Courts are held in cafeterias, judgments passed over 2 a.m. texts. Our base tastes have royal propensity. This is a plutocracy. Am I the princess in the tower? The damsel in distress? No, I am the dragon spitting flames, the viper in your sleeve. I’m not the girl you die for, my sweet. I am the one you kill for.

{We Rule the Kingdoms of High School Hallways} two of seven poetry week prompts || a. b. (via nirantar)

[extihnction]

I’m a mess but god I hope you still want me.

(via 2-schachteln-marlboro)

[vikingsquotes]

My gods… are as real as you and me. They laugh. They bleed. They rush around the skies.

Lagertha, Warrior’s Fate. (via vikingsquotes)

[freeartsmn-deactivated20170320]

Art is a wound turned into light.

Georges Braque

[wordsnquotes]

So often we try to make other people feel better by minimizing their pain, by telling them that it will get better (which it will) or that there are worse things in the world (which there are). But that’s not what I actually needed. What I actually needed was for someone to tell me that it hurt because it mattered. I have found this very useful to think about over the years, and I find that it is a lot easier and more bearable to be sad when you aren’t constantly berating yourself for being sad.“

John Green  (via lookingoutformybrother)

[leepace]

[quotesinmypants]

Mutation: it is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, and normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward.