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How can I explain to you, my happiness, my golden, wonderful happiness, how much I am all yours – with all my memories, poems, outbursts, inner whirlwinds? Or explain that I cannot write a word without hearing how you will pronounce it – and can’t recall a single trifle I’ve lived through without regret – so sharp! – that we haven’t lived through it together – whether it’s the most, the most personal, intransmissible – or only some sunset or other at the bend of a road – you see what I mean, my happiness?

— Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra

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Invisible things are the only realities

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Look, I'm Coraline. Okay?'

'Cats don't have names,' it said.

'No?' said Coraline.

'No,' said the cat. 'Now you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names.

Neil Gaiman, Coraline

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We are what we choose to be - Altair

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to make life important.

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"the tired sunsets and the tired people-it takes a lifetime to die and no time at all".

–Charles Bukowski

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Source: pinterest

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And Now I See With Eye Serene, The Very Pulse Of The Machine

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Melancholic skies and miserable dreams;

Love isn't a dream but our meer memory

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Gold That Frames the Mirror, Brandon Melendez

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-Benedict Smith, I wish I wrote the way I thought