#selfmistrust

[nocturnalversesandtales]

The worst horror stories aren’t about monsters—they’re about when you can’t trust yourself anymore.

[mediasres00]

78//365 From the PIGS of the universe to not meaning what you say… {April 5, 2020 // 77} April 5, 2008 “His thinking was a dusk of doubt and selfmistrust lit up at moments by the lightnings of intuition, but lightnings of so clear a splendour that in those moments the world perished about his feet as if it had been fireconsumed: and thereafter his tongue grew heavy and he met the eyes of others with unanswering eyes for he felt that the spirit of beauty had folded him round like a mantle and that in revery at leas he had been acquainted with nobility.” A portrait of a young artist ~ James Joyce. I wish I was wrong about people. My mom would always ask my opinion regarding the new people in her life. For whatever reason, she thought I had an intuitive sense of these things. Whether this is true or not, there are people in my life who I hope prove me wrong because I do want to believe in the ‘things’ they say. But the fact that I question them already is an answer in of itself. Even in doubt, I will always hope they will surprise me yet, but in the meantime, I’ll solider on as a full house of cards and see if the second line shows up. April 05, 2020 at 05:08AM

[silvestriste]

His thinking was a dusk of doubt and selfmistrust lit up at moments by the lightnings of intuition, but lightnings of so clear a splendour that in those moments the world perished about his feet as if it had been fireconsumed: and thereafter his tongue grew heavy and he met the eyes of others with unanswering eyes for he felt that the spirit of beauty had folded him round like a mantle and that in revery at least he had been acquainted with nobility.

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce