(via neonfelin)
But there is hope. Hope for the hopeless ask archive rss theme personal
lovely :)
"How do you get so empty? Who takes it out of you?"
- Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
"How do you get so empty? Who takes it out of you?"
- Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
Živela je od danas do sutra, bezbrižno i lakomisleno.
Živog duha, otvorena i strastvena, umela je da bude umiljata i koristila je šarm da bi ostvarila svoje ciljeve. Međutim, živela je razuzdano, opijena osećanjima i izlivima emocija. Pomalo žrtva kompulzivne potrebe da postoji kroz poglede muškaraca, neprestano se igrala vatrom.
Živog duha, otvorena i strastvena, umela je da bude umiljata i koristila je šarm da bi ostvarila svoje ciljeve. Međutim, živela je razuzdano, opijena osećanjima i izlivima emocija. Pomalo žrtva kompulzivne potrebe da postoji kroz poglede muškaraca, neprestano se igrala vatrom.
— Gijom Muso-Sedam godina kasnije (via brbljivica)
I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (“I’m not a big one for paying compliments…”), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself. For a moment life suddenly feels lighter, a bit more Gene Kelly dancing in the rain.
— Jonathan Carroll (via wethinkwedream)
(Source: jonathancarroll.com, via junk0fthemind)
In spite of everything I loved you, and will go on loving you—on my knees, with my shoulders drawn back, showing my heels to the headsman and straining my goose neck—even then. And afterwards—perhaps most of all afterwards—I shall love you, and one day we shall have a real, all-embracing explanation, and then perhaps we shall somehow fit together, you and I, and turn ourselves in such a way that we form one pattern, and solve the puzzle: draw a line from point A to point B…without looking, or, without lifting the pencil…or in some other way…we shall connect the points, draw the line, and you and I shall form that unique design for which I yearn. If they do this kind of thing to me every morning, they will get me trained and I shall become quite wooden.
— Vladimir Nabokov, Invitation to a Beheading (via larmoyante)
