January 2011
124 posts
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Happiness consists in realizing it is all a great strange dream.
– Jack Kerouac (via palelimbs)
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I could see the road ahead of me. I was poor and I was going to stay poor. But I...
– Ham On Rye, 1982
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I wasn’t a misanthrope and I wasn’t a misogynist but I liked being...
– Ham On Rye, 1982
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Sometimes the things you want the most don't...
wishful thinking… hoping i’d meet THAT one person that’ll change my life, big time.
Love and Other Drugs
Maggie Murdock: What's your game?
Jamie Randall: My game?
Maggie Murdock: Oh I'm sorry. Right. This is the part where we talk about where we come from and what we majored in in college.
Jamie Randall: You have beautiful eyes.
Maggie Murdock: That's it? That's the best you got?
Jamie Randall: I'm serious. They're beautiful.
Maggie Murdock: Let's go.
Jamie Randall: Excuse me?
Maggie Murdock: You want to close right? You want to get laid?
Jamie Randall: Now?
Maggie Murdock: Oh right, right, right. I'm supposed to act like I don't know if it's right. So then you tell me that there is no right or wrong. It's just the moment. And then I tell you that I can't while actually signalling to you that I can, which you don't need because you're not really listening. Because this isn't about connection for you. This isn't even about sex for you. This is about finding an hour or two of relief from the pain of being you. And that's fine with me, see, because all I want is the exact same thing.
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That’s the whole trouble. You can’t ever find a place that’s nice and peaceful,...
– J.D. Salinger (via thechocolatebrigade)
Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back. That’s...
– Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami (via thechocolatebrigade)
I wonder why I don’t go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow,...
– The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via thechocolatebrigade)
The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own...
– The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (via thechocolatebrigade)
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God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel...
– Sylvia Plath (via thechocolatebrigade)
The streets were full of insane and dull people. Most of them lived in nice...
– Charles Bukowski (Post Office)