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Though gay companions o'er the bowl Dispel awhile the sense of ill, Though Pleasure stirs the maddening soul, The heart--the heart is lonely still.
Byron, I Would I Were a Careless Child
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We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It’s our own concept—our own selves—that we love.
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via the-book-diaries)
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We have already gone beyond whatever we have words for.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of The Idols (via the-book-diaries)
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- Ama yandınız, kül oldunuz. - Ama vardım, kül bunun kanıtı.
Ayfer Tunç, Suzan Defter
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Artist:
Kristina Collantes
“Tea”
https://www.instagram.com/kristinacollantes/
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Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (via the-book-diaries)
As time passes on all we see is the decay of the truth once we assumed to be.
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