You’ve a good heart. Sometimes that’s enough to see you safe...– Neil Gaiman (via loveyourchaos)
We are our own demons.
Memory was supposed to fill the time, but it made time a hole to be filled. Each...– From ‘Everything Is Illuminated’ by Jonathan Safran Foer
You are not at all like my rose,’ he said. ‘As yet you are nothing....– From ‘The Little Prince’ by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry Everyone should read this book.
Funny thing, your brain, how it always functions on one level or another. How,...– Ellen Hopkins
‘Everything’s Not Lost (Life Is For...
… I have come to think that life is a far more limited thing than those in...– From ‘The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle’ by Haruki Murakami
November comes And November goes, With the last red berries And the first...– Clyde Watson
Music can lift us out of depression or move us to tears - it is a remedy, a...– Oliver Sacks
wolfie-athena: beast - nina kinert
Choking with dry tears and raging, raging, raging at the absolute indifference...– Stephen Fry
The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own...– From ‘The Bell Jar’ by Sylvia Plath
Humans 'hear' through their skin →
Have you ever felt despair? Absolute hopelessness? Have you ever stood in the...– Jim Butcher
If we communicated with something like music, we would never be misunderstood,...– From ‘Everything Is Illuminated’ by Jonathan Safran Foer
Mari remembered what she had read in the young girl’s eyes the moment she...– From ‘Veronika Decides to Die’ by Paulo Coelho
And then again, maybe people and things are the same as emotions: Even when you...– Cristina Henriquez
You know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in...– Garden State (2004)
You know, this necklace makes me think of this totally random memory of my...– Garden State (2004)
And why is it, thought Lara, that my fate is to see everything and take it all...– Boris Pasternak (Doctor Zhivago) (via rememo)
Being in a foreign country means walking a tightrope high above the ground...– From ‘The Unbearable Lightness of Being’ by Milan Kundera