inosarma69 - Tumblr blog

[inosarma69]

[inosarma69]

“It’s not ‘natural’ to speak well, eloquently, in an interesting articulate way. People living in groups, families, communes say little–have few verbal means. Eloquence–thinking in words–is a byproduct of solitude, deracination, a heightened painful individuality.”

— Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh (via the-book-diaries)

[inosarma69]

Marguerite Duras, from The Lover

Text ID: I think I'm beginning to see my life. I think I can already say, I have a vague desire to die. From now on I treat that word and my life inseparable.

[inosarma69]

Oh to have someone talk about space, art, movies, literature, poetry, existence >>>>>>>>

[inosarma69]

Let's run through the medow and never look back

[inosarma69]

the entire point of life is to be silly, kind, and really weird btw.

[inosarma69]

mature conversations mixed with a lil flirting and joking >>>>

[inosarma69]

Ain’t no reason to lie to me I barely be giving a fuck

[inosarma69]

If u ever wanna hit on me pls be obvious I am stupid.

[inosarma69]

are you worried

About what? But yeah

[inosarma69]

[inosarma69]

stop being so forgiving, people know exactly what the fuck they’re doing

[inosarma69]

Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980; February 17th, 1970

Text ID: I don't feel guilt at being unsociable, though I may sometimes regret it because my loneliness is painful. But when I move into the world, it feels like a moral fall—like seeking love in a whorehouse.

[inosarma69]

Jean-Paul Sartre, from No Exit and Three Other Plays; “The Flies”

Text ID: you and I harbor the same dark secret in our hearts.

[inosarma69]

I was glad I wasn't in love, that I wasn't happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.

Charles Bukowski, Women

[inosarma69]

― E.M. Forster, Howards End

[text ID: The house was very quiet, and the fog—we are in November now—pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost.]

[inosarma69]

You shouldn't have left me with this silence.

⁠Anne Sexton, from ‘A Self-Portrait in Letters’ ⁠— Brother Dennis Farrell, 10th December 1966