#lit quote

[words-and-coffee]

For whom is it well, for whom is it well? There is no one for whom it is well.

Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart

[zurich-snows]

"After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, love, and so on, and have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear - what remains? Nature remains... the open air, the trees, fields, the changes of seasons, the sun by day and the stars of heaven by night." - Walt Whitman, Specimen Days, 1892

via @thelibraryofesoterica

[notesofamt]

— ‘Different’ from Lucidity: Paintings, Prose & Poetry

[shieldofiron]

“None of this, of him, should be possible, but he is. He’s proof that gods do exist, and this, what we’re doing? This is how you worship. This is how you honor the divine.”

- Sarah Raasch, The Fake Divination Offensive p 248

[mythologyofblue]

"Fiction is art and art is the triumph over chaos… to celebrate a world that lies spread out around us like a bewildering and stupendous dream.”

-John Cheever

[the-phooey]

And all that burgeoning physicality is held within yourself as a sort of secret, even as it is also the actual surface that you present to the world, so that you’re left absurdly exposed, unsure whether the world knows everything about you or nothing, because you have no way of knowing whether these experiences that you’re having are universal or entirely specific.

David Szalay, Flesh

[arylleth]

[de-la-bibliotheque]

'Can you see the sunset real good from the West Side?' She blinked, startled, the smiled. 'Real good.' 'You can see it good from the East Side, too.'

S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders