(via hellafellafoool)
(via hellafellafoool)
—Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion (via bookquotesbook)
(Source: bookquotesbook.tumblr.com , via bookquotesbook)
—Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion (via bookquotesbook)
(Source: bookquotesbook.tumblr.com , via bookquotesbook)
When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn’t know.
“Oh, sure you know,” the photographer said.
“She wants,” said Jay Cee wittily, “to be everything.”-Sylvia Plath
I wrote this three years ago, just re-read and was impressed by how much smarter I was back then, enjoy.
I was thinking about Lady Gaga’s Telephone…No, just kidding, although it is a great song. I’ve just been having thoughts about things;
Like that people never can admit to themselves that their quieted thoughts of foreboding meaningless and life’s meaningless is all that drives most everyone. I hate to tread on Kierkegaard territory here, whether the meaning of life is inherent or determined by the individual, but regardless-stop pretending that whatever you’re doing isn’t driven by the thoughts of drifting away into obscurity, to have never been loved or to be remembered. Your passion isn’t art, or writing or music or fucking or partying or school or theater or books or 4chan, your passion is existing in any way possible, in any way you can be remembered. People strive to exist and those that don’t or fail are never known to have existed anyway.
—Unknown (via wolf-cub)
(Source: ckgarden, via upsidownfrown)
(Source: spearmientxo)
—Boris Pasternak (via svcoconutz)