You were said to have died of suffering. But you died because you searched for happiness at the risk of finding the void. — Édouard Levé, Suicide. (P.O.L. (ï¿½DITIONS); POL edition, April 15, 2008)
You can be lonely anywhere, but there is a particular flavour to the loneliness that comes from living in a city, surrounded by millions of people. ― Olivia Laing, The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone. (Picador, 2016)
Summer? My memory flutters — had I — was there a summer? — Emily Dickinson, from a letter to J. G. Holland, The Letters of Emily Dickinson. Edited by Mabel Loomis Todd ( (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, September 28, 2015)
But beauty is not the only thing that makes a woman attractive; indeed, great beauty is often somewhat chilling: you admire, but are not moved. ― W. Somerset Maugham, Ten Novels and Their Authors. (Vintage; New Ed edition 2001) Originally published 1948.
Perhaps love is to give one’s own solitude to others? For it is the very last thing we have to offer. — Clarice Lispector, from “The Gift,” Selected Crônicas. (New Directions, November 17, 1996)
You exist in a half-world suspended between two superstructures, one self-expression and the other self-destruction. — Truman Capote, In Cold Blood (Random House, 1965)
…I have a feeling of being at home when I am with Sien, a feeling that she gives me my own hearth, that our lives are interwoven. This is a heartfelt, deep feeling, serious, and not without a dark shadow of her gloomy past and mine, as if some evil threatened us, against which we… Continue reading Vincent van Gogh