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“Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you've felt that way.” ― Charles Bukowski
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𝟽 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟿 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙹𝚘𝚢𝚌𝚎, 𝚃𝚘 𝙽𝚘𝚛𝚊 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝙹𝚘𝚢𝚌𝚎 𝙻𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙹𝚘𝚢𝚌𝚎 [𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟿𝟻𝟽]
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“You will leave; we’ll forget one another; but now and then the name of a street, or a street organ weeping in the twilight, will remind us in a more vivid and more truthful way than thought could resurrect or words convey, of that main thing which was between, the main thing which we do not know…”
— Vladimir Nabokov, from a draft of ‘The Tragedy of Mister Morn’, excerpted in a letter to his wife, Véra (1924), Letters to Véra (via soracities)
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baring my soul to the girl I just met in the bar bathroom
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