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The curious are always in some danger. If you are curious you might never come home…
— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit (via liquidnight)
I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found…
— John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America (via liquidnight)
I am afraid. I am not solid but hollow. I feel behind my eyes a numb paralyzed cavern, a pit of hell, a mimicking nothingness.
— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals (via frenchtwist)
Even so you have managed to live that love in the only way possible for you. Losing it before it happened.
— Marguerite Duras, The Malady of Death, translation by Barbara Bray (via frenchtwist)
She bit her lip and turned her head a little and looked at me along her eyes. Then she lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theater curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air.
— Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep (via liquidnight)
The girl gave him a look which ought to have stuck at least four inches out of his back.
— Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye (via liquidnight)
I, to you, am lost in the gorgeous errors of flesh.
— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals (via frenchtwist)
The Greek word for “return” is nostos. Algos means “suffering.” So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return.
— Milan Kundera, Ignorance (via liquidnight)
Disintegration is quite painless, I assure you.
— H.P. Lovecraft, From Beyond (via frenchtwist)
In the absence of other lips, gnaw your own
to pulp.
Eyes over there – depths – dream-filled looks, never fixed; here, mouths – abysses… — Claude Cahun, Aveux non avenus (Disavowals), translation by Susan de Muth (via frenchtwist)
Eyes over there – depths – dream-filled looks, never fixed; here, mouths – abysses… — Claude Cahun, Aveux non avenus (Disavowals), translation by Susan de Muth (via frenchtwist)
