You have to be an artist and a madman, a creature of infinite melancholy, with a bubble of hot poison in your loins and a super-voluptuous flame aglow in your subtle spine (oh, how you have to cringe and hide!), in order to discern at once, by ineffable signs—the slightly feline outline of a cheekbone, the slenderness of a downy limb, and other indices which despair and shame and tears of tenderness forbid me to tabulate—the deadly little demon among the wholesome children; she stands unrecognized by them and unconscious herself of her fantastic power.
— Vladimir Nabokov; Lolita (via aeloquence)

(Source: beautemillesimee)
You can forget that other people carry pieces of your own story around in their heads. I’ve always thought—put together all those random pieces form everyone who’s ever known you from your parents to the guy who once sat next to you on a bus, and you’d probably see a fuller version of your life than you even did while living it.
— Deb Caletti (via photographic-energy)
I find parallels in nature to be a beautiful reflection of grand orchestration. One of these parallels is of snowflakes and us. We, too, are all headed in the same direction. We are being driven by a universal force to the same destination. We are all individuals taking different journeys and along our journey, we sometimes bump into each other, we cross paths, we become altered… we take different physical forms. But at all times we too are 100% perfectly imperfect. At every given moment we are absolutely perfect for what is required for our journey. I’m not perfect for your journey and you’re not perfect for my journey, but I’m perfect for my journey and you’re perfect for your journey. We’re heading to the same place, we’re taking different routes, but we’re both exactly perfect the way we are.
— Steve Maraboli (via arreter)

(Source: arreter)
THE FEELINGS THAT HURT MOST, THE EMOTIONS THAT STING MOST, ARE THOSE THAT ARE ABSURD; THE LONGING FOR IMPOSSIBLE THINGS, PRECISELY BECAUSE THEY ARE IMPOSSIBLE; NOSTALGIA FOR WHAT NEVER WAS; THE DESIRE FOR WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN; REGRET OVER NOT BEING SOMEONE ELSE; DISSATISFACTION WITH THE WORLD’S EXISTENCE. ALL THESE HALF-TONES OF THE SOUL’S CONSCIOUSNESS CREATE IN US A PAINFUL LANDSCAPE, AN ETERNAL SUNSET OF WHAT WE ARE.
— Fernando Pessoa
I LIKE PEOPLE WITH DEPTH, I LIKE PEOPLE WITH EMOTION, I LIKE PEOPLE WITH A STRONG MIND, AN INTERESTING MIND, A TWISTED MIND, AND ALSO SOMEONE THAT CAN MAKE ME SMILE.
— Abbey Lee Kershaw 
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Sort Of
Ingrid Michaelson
3,056 plays
I fall in love with WORDS, not people.
You didn’t even say goodbye…you just left.

Writers are crazy.

And I don’t mean crazy in the way people throw the word at anyone we disagree with, I actually mean insane. We’re often misunderstood and deeply troubled. We have to be at least a little bit mentally unstable, or we wouldn’t be any good at what we do. Really, who wants to read something a boring sane person wrote, anyway? Not me.


— Things You Should Know Before You Date A Writer (Jamie Anne Royce)

(Source: soundlesswhisper)