*

[saddest-summer]

That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.

F. Scott Fitzgerald (via saddest-summer)

[aigla]

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

Date a Girl Who Reads, Rosemaire Urquico (via thenocturnals)

[rowleyrowley-blog]

Truth is truth To the end of reckoning

Measure for Measure

[rowleyrowley-blog]

[moonpunx]

It does not suffice for you to say I am a sweet girl or to say you hate to see me sad because of you. It does not suffice to merely lie beside each other as those who love each other do.

Joanna Newsom, “Does Not Suffice” (via colourmegreenwich)

[rowleyrowley-blog]

"You begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss and they open doors for you. I say follow your bliss and don't be afraid and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be."

Joseph Campbell

[rowleyrowley-blog]

"We will meet, and there we may rehearse more obscenely and courageously. Take pains, be perfect. Adieu"

Bottom - Midsummer Night's Dream

[rowleyrowley-blog]

"The letters of several writers enabled me... to question an existential ambition: that of offering one's life to serve beauty."

Toderov: What Is Literature For

[rowleyrowley-blog]

"Go on, make up your mind. Sometimes when you do things on the spur of the moment it brings you luck."

Jean Rhys: Voyage in the Dark

[rowleyrowley-blog]

love laughs at locksmiths

[rowleyrowley-blog]

The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life.

Love After Love: Derek Walcott

[rowleyrowley-blog]

Look, the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they're evil or sinful; it is that they are unconscious. They are default-settings. They're the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that's what you're doing. And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default-settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default-setting, the "rat race" -- the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.

David Foster Wallace: Kenyon Commencement Speech

[roooklyn-deactivated20190820]

[rowleyrowley-blog]

murdermeharry:

can i be like this tomorrow?

[fuckonomics]

[rowleyrowley-blog]

We are ever in the arms of our exile, forever going one way and the other though sometimes of course on a sphere that is not so bad. I will meet you on the nape of your neck one day, on the surface of intention, word becoming act. We will breathe into each other the high mountain tales, where the snows come from, where the waters begin.

Luke Davies: Totem (I)

[rowleyrowley-blog]

But who can say what's best? That's why you need to grab whatever chance you have of happiness where you find it, and not worry about other people too much. My experience tells me that we get no more than two or three such chances in a life time, and if we let them go, we regret it for the rest of our lives.

Haruki Murakami: Norwegian Wood

[rowleyrowley-blog]