June 2011
30 posts
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To be safe, I think I should only map my pain in proportion to pain I have...
– “The Pain Scale” by Eula Biss
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I was eleven years old when I walked into the labyrinth of my diary… I was...
– Anaïs Nin (via clavicola)
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You’re always haunted by the idea you’re wasting your life.
– Chuck Palahniuk (via monsieurmademoiselle)
I hadn’t understood how days could be both long and short at the same time: long...
– The Stranger by Albert Camus (via thechocolatebrigade)
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Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this...
– Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling
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You’ll stay with me?”
“Until the very end,” said James....
– Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling
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There are all kinds of silences and each of them means a different thing. There...
– Beryl Markham (via atomos)
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But then again (and here is one of my main complaints about human...
– John Green, Let it Snow (via jennarosity)
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I never grew up, but I got old.
– Michael Dorris, A Yellow Raft in Blue Water (via loveseat)
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We were never lovers, and we never will be, now. I do not regret that, however....
– Neil Gaiman (via elbows)
It’s clear to me now that I have been moving toward you and you toward me for a...
– Robert James Waller (via obdormio)
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I am not worried, Harry,” said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger...
– Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling
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What I like in an author is not what he says, but what he whispers.
– Logan Smith
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Pretending in words was too tentative, too vulnerable, too embarrassing to let...
– Atonement by Ian McEwan (via thechocolatebrigade)
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The room was filled with conversations we weren’t having.
– Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer (via thechocolatebrigade)
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Long after her death I felt her thoughts floating through mine. Long before we...
– Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov (via clavicola)
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I shall always remember that smile. From what world did it come?
– Night, Elie Wiesel (via fuckyeahliteraryquotes)
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We were masters of nature, masters of the world. We had forgotten...
– Night by Elie Wiesel
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clavicola:
She was a walking poem, breathing stanzas and built in free verse.
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He got away with everything because of the extraordinary kind of person he was.
– A Separate Peace by John Knowles