A transcript of the media coverage of every major...
luckyshirt: “A thing happened. We don’t really know what the fuck is going on. But shit totally happened. Here’s some speculation and here are some interviews with people who also don’t know what the fuck is going on. Again: a thing happened. We don’t want to come off as insensitive by switching back to what we were doing before this happened, so we’ll just keep talking and saying a lot of...
Literature is hands down the sharpest tool in the shed for conveying the feeling...– Susan Salter Reynolds in her review of Lydia Millet’s Ghost Lights (via wwnorton)
I ran into a lady in the supermarket in Florida. Old lady. There’re lot of old...– Stephen King, in the WSJ (via lazybookreviews)
I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect,...– F. Scott Fitzgerald (via venebelle)
It had nothing to do with morality. Embarrassment, that’s all it was. And...– Tim O’Brien “On The Rainy River” from The Things They Carried (via theenlightenednixie) My class is reading this currently. I love this chapter.
Intellectual Musings: Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda →
decembaby: I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think. Because...– A. A. Milne (via troubled)
What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody....– Chuck Palahniuk, Choke (via seabois)
How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.– David Foster Wallace’s The Pale King (via nequiquam)
In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am...– Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena (via violentwavesofemotion)
When I first met you, I felt a kind of contradiction in you. You’re seeking...– Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore (via 4mbivalent)