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Forget everything. Open the windows. Clear the room. The wind blows through it. You see only its emptiness, you search in every corner and don’t find yourself.

Franz Kafka (via quotemadness)

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There is a great deal of pain in life and perhaps the only pain that can be avoided is the pain that comes from trying to avoid pain.

R.D. Laing (via quotemadness)

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Being an adult means realizing $1,000 is a lot to pay but so little to have.

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Personal message

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those characters where if you knew them in real life you would genuinely fucking hate them but in a fictional world it’s like ah yes this fucking asshole that i love

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I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.

Stephen Chbosky (via quotemadness)

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“God! How much I need tenderness from people, and gentleness, the possibility of liking and being liked with real warmth. […]”

— Iris Murdoch, from a letter to David Hicks written c. February 1946

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“Can I never escape this interminable mourning for myself?”

— Susan Sontag, from Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1964. (via xshayarsha)

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“Nearly everyone I know feels that some quality of concentration they once possessed has been destroyed. Reading books has become hard; the mind keeps wanting to shift from whatever it is paying attention to to pay attention to something else. A restlessness has seized hold of many of us, a sense that we should be doing something else, no matter what we are doing, or doing at least two things at once, or going to check some other medium. It’s an anxiety about keeping up, about not being left out or getting behind. (Maybe it was a landmark when Paris Hilton answered her mobile phone while having sex while being videotaped a decade ago). The older people I know are less affected because they don’t partake so much of new media, or because their habits of mind and time are entrenched. The really young swim like fish through the new media and hardly seem to know that life was ever different. But those of us in the middle feel a sense of loss. I think it is for a quality of time we no longer have, and that is hard to name and harder to imagine reclaiming. My time does not come in large, focused blocks, but in fragments and shards. The fault is my own, arguably, but it’s yours too – it’s the fault of everyone I know who rarely finds herself or himself with uninterrupted hours. We’re shattered. We’re breaking up. It’s hard, now, to be with someone else wholly, uninterruptedly, and it’s hard to be truly alone. The fine art of doing nothing in particular, also known as thinking, or musing, or introspection, or simply moments of being, was part of what happened when you walked from here to there alone, or stared out the train window, or contemplated the road, but the new technologies have flooded those open spaces. Space for free thought is routinely regarded as a void, and filled up with sounds and distractions.”

—

Rebecca Solnit.

“Right now we need to articulate these subtle things, this richer, more expansive quality of time and attention and connection, to hold onto it. Can we? The alternative is grim, with a grimness that would be hard to explain to someone who’s distracted.” - Rebecca Solnit.

(via kuanios)

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Virginia Woolf, The Waves

[Text ID: “I dream; I dream.”]

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Margaret Atwood sure knows how to write books that hook you from the start.

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the four horsemen of the apocalypse