#p. 64

[eloise-wengler-glass-blog]

It was a day, God knows, not only of rampant signs and symbols, but of wildly extensive communication via the written word.  If you jumped into crowded cars, Fate took circuitous pains, before you did any jumping, that you had a pad and pencil with you, just in case one of your fellow passengers is a deaf-mute. If you slipped into bathrooms, you did well to look up to see if there were any little messages, faintly apocalyptic or otherwise, posted high over the washbowl.

J.D. Salinger’s Raise High the Roofbeam Carpenters 

[trechos-e-textos]

O amor não escolhe a pessoa, simplesmente a gente se apaixona.

Takeland

[sucy-studies]

Mesmo que de fato fôssemos as culpadas - e que tivéssemos combinado que só confessaríamos caso alguém tivesse problemas com isso-, seria difícil convencer as pessoas de que nós éramos as verdadeiras culpadas.

Se eu ficar, Gayle Forman

[alibellule]

[meggielynne]

362. suds...all color in sun.

"I fill the sink with the circle of bowl, and batter floats up in suds. I wash. I see my reflection in the stainless of the tap. I know you, those seeking eyes. You're the one in dire need of time, that thing we can't buy, what we sell of ourselves to get more of what we think we want, what we sacrifice to seemingly gain. They say time is money, but that's not true. Time is life. And if I want the fullest life, I need to find fullest time. I wipe a water spot off the tap; there is a reflection of me. Oh yes, I know you, the busyness of your life leaving little room for the source of your life. I'm the face grieving. 

God gives us time. And who has time for God?

Which makes no sense." 

[mythologyofblue]

I felt a melting in me.

Herman Melville, Moby-Dick