Untitled

Feb
18th

Wed

Although I have felt compelled to write things down since I was five years old, I doubt that my daughter ever will, for she is a singularly blessed and accepting child, delighted with life exactly as life presents itself to her, unafraid to go to sleep and unafraid to wake up. Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.

— Joan Didion (via furrowedbrow) (via alohanico) (via buyhercandy) (via singlescoop) (via breathsoftruth)

I don’t want to be somebody’s crush. If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don’t want them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it, too. I want them to be able to do whatever they want around me. And if they do something I don’t like, I”ll tell them.

— The Perks of Being a Wallflower (via overflowing) (via maddieness) (via breathsoftruth)

There is a point to be made about language. He never said the word ‘terrorism’ in his inaugural address, because he doesn’t believe that terror is an “ism.” He thinks it’s a tactic, a bad tactic we are totally against it. International warfare forbids it of course but it’s not an “ism.” It’s not like communism, or even jihadism, it’s a method. We gotta stop fighting a method. I’m telling you terrorism is a bad word because it doesn’t teach you anything. It’s as if we went to war with surprise attacks after Pearl Harbor.

—

Chris Matthews (via soupsoup) (via twothirty)

“Terrorism is a tactic, not an enemy.” - Eugene Robinson

(via danielholter) (via robot-heart-politics)

(via notemily)

(via breathsoftruth)

Do you know what happens when you hurt people? When you hurt people, they begin to love you less. That’s what careless words do. they make people love you a little less.

— the god of small things. (via iguessthatscool) (via unicornology)(via catskills) (via bon-bon) (via breathsoftruth)

If nothing else, one day you can look someone straight in the eyes and say

“But I lived through it. And it made me who I am today.

— I Wrote This For You (via neverreallyready) (via jaim) (via breathsoftruth)

And you know for the first time, for the very first time, that there will now be a before and an after, a was and a will be.

And that you will never again quite be the same person you were.

— Unknown (via enamour) (via pretty-bird) (via earthquakesandheartache) (via 52hearts) (via finallyseeing) (via breathsoftruth)

I guess I could be really pissed off about what happened to me, but it’s hard to stay mad, when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain. And I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m sure. But don’t worry… you will someday.

— Kevin Spacey, American Beauty (via thoughtsdetained) (via breathsoftruth)

When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I could have cried over it. I did. Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table. I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less. Is that growing old? Or is it something worse? You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.

—

Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

(via iguessthatscool)

(via dancetotheradio)

(via wekeepsaying) (via srsly)

(via breathsoftruth)

Nov
19th

Wed

In absurdist experience, suffering is individual. But from the moment when a movement of rebellion begins, suffering is seen as a collective experience. Therefore the first progressive step for a mind overwhelmed by the strangeness of things is to realize that this feeling of strangeness is shared with all men and that human reality, in its entirety, suffers from the distance which separates it from the rest of the universe. The malady experienced by a single man becomes a mass plague. In our daily trials rebellion plays the same role as does the “cogito” in the realm of thought: it is the first piece of evidence. But this evidence lures the individual from his solitude. It founds its first value on the whole human race. I rebel — therefore we exist.

— Albert Camus, The Rebel (via sailingonthesea)

one day, you fall for this boy and he touches you with his fingers and he burns holes in your skin with his mouth and it hurts to look at him and it hurts when you don’t and it feels like someone’s cut you open with a piece of glass.