David Levithan
Insight, n.: How telling that there isn’t anything called “outsight,” as if language itself knows the direction that wisdom must come from. — David Levithan
Insight, n.: How telling that there isn’t anything called “outsight,” as if language itself knows the direction that wisdom must come from. — David Levithan
We all have forests on our minds. Forests unexplored, unending. Each one of us gets lost in the forest, every night, alone. — Ursula K. Le Guin
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. ― George Orwell, 1984 ( Plume, January 1, 2014) Originally published June 8th 1949.
I’m saying that I’m a moody, insecure, narrow-minded, jealous, borderline homicidal bitch, and I want you to promise me that you’re okay with that, because it’s who I am, and you’re what I need. ― Jeaniene Frost, Halfway to the Grave (Avon; 1st Printing edition, October 30, 2007)
Like a wind crying endlessly through the universe, Time carries away the names and the deeds of conquerors and commoners alike. And all that we were, all that remains, is in the memories of those who cared we came this way for a brief moment. ― Harlan Ellison
I look at you, and I just love you, and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you. — Alexandra Bracken, Never Fade ( Hyperion Book CH; First Edition, November 5, 2013)
I live in a well. I live like smoke in the well. Like vapor in a stone throat. I don’t move. I don’t do anything but wait. Overhead I see the cold stars of night and morning, and I see the sun. And sometimes I sing old songs of this world when it was young.… Continue reading Ray Bradbury
I realize full well how hard it must be to go on living alone in a place from which someone has left you, but there is nothing so cruel in this world as the desolation of having nothing to hope for. — Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (KNOPF.; First Edition edition 1997)
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits andAre melted into air, into thin air:And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolveAnd, like this insubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a rack behind. We… Continue reading William Shakespeare
For love is no part of the dreamworld. Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel. ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 2: The Doll’s House. (Vertigo; Gph edition. March 10, 1999) Originally published June 1st 1990.