Take a walk...

... through others' minds...

 “But as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.”
― Charles Bukowski  

 “The walls of books around him, dense with the past, formed a kind of insulation against the present world and its disasters.”
― Ross McDonald 

 “I went to the library. I looked at the magazines, at the pictures in them. One day I went to the bookshelves, and pulled out a book. It was Winesburg, Ohio.. I sat at a long mahogany table and began to read. All at once my world turned over. The sky fell in. The book held me. The tears came. My heart beat fast. I read until my eyes burned. I took the book home. I read another Anderson. I read and I read, and I was heartsick and lonely and in love with a book, many books, until it came naturally, and I sat there with a pencil and a long tablet, and tried to write, until I felt I could not go on because the words would not come as they did in Anderson, they only came like drops of blood from my heart.”
― John Fante

 “So black was the way ahead that my progress consisted of long periods of inert despondency punctuated by spasmodic lurches forward towards any small chink of light that I thought I saw...As the years went by, it did not get lighter but I became accustomed to the dark”
― Quentin Crisp

  “I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”
― John Green

 “One existence, one music, one organism, one life, one God: star-fire and rock-strength, the sea's cold flow
And man's dark soul.”
― Robinson Jeffers

 “I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago ― but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man's child. She could fade and wither ― I didn't care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.”
― Vladimir Nabokov

  “Someday no one will remember that she ever existed, I wrote in my notebook, and then, or that I did. Because memories fall apart, too. And then you're left with nothing, left not even with a ghost but with its shadow. In the beginning, she had haunted me, haunted my dreams, but even now, just weeks later, she was slipping away, falling apart in my memory and everyone else's, dying again.”
― John Green

 “Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered for they are gone forever.”
― Horace Mann 

 “The world is very lovely, and it's very horrible--and it doesn't care about your life or mine or anything else.”
― Rudyard Kipling

 “Don't you know who you love, Pudge? You love the girl who makes you laugh and shows you porn and drinks wine with you.”
― John Green

 “I was weeping again, drunk on the impossible past.”
― Vladimir Nabokov 

 “The past was filling the room like a tide of whispers.”
― Ross Macdonald

 “No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

 

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