You’re always begging for things to love you, he said, as if you were a beggar for love. Even the flowers, you have to fawn on them.
Perhaps the most tragic thing about mankind is that we are all dreaming about some magical garden over the horizon, instead of enjoying the roses that are right outside today.
lay me down in aurulent fields, within the high grasses amidst sienna and satin. let me drink of the sweetest amber, sunset dripped from your summer-glazed skin. under you, and your fingers press my lips, the ground scattered of broken rose hips- and the burnt wind brushes past to collect our heavy sighs.
…I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire…I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.
William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury
This was one of my favorite literary passages in high school.
Memory has its own screen across the room to view itself, and the continuous dwelling of conjecture takes permanent form in stiff-legged walks to remind, thus on and on the breathing goes.
i didn’t feel like i was in my own body; my body was just a lonely, temporary container i happened to be borrowing.
I was half in love with her by the time we sat down. That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they’re not much to look at, or even if they’re sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can.
Be kind to your sleeping heart.
Take it out into the vast fields of Light
And let it breathe..
Hafiz (via songnsilence)