March 24th, 2013
February 9th, 2013
December 26th, 2012
December 10th, 2012
November 26th, 2012
There’s always a moment when you start to fall out of love, whether it’s with a person or an idea or a cause, even if it’s one you only narrate to yourself years after the event: a tiny thing, a wrong word, a false note, which means that things can never be quite the same again.
Douglas Adams, The Salmon of Doubt (via creatingaquietmind)
November 23rd, 2012
When I am lonely for boys it’s their bodies I miss. I study their hands lifting the cigarettes in the darkness of the movie theaters, the slope of a shoulder, the angle of a hip. Looking at them sideways, I examine them in different lights. My love for them is visual: that is the part of them I would like to possess. Don’t move, I think. Stay like that, let me have that.
Margaret Atwood, Cat’s Eye (via pavorst)
October 10th, 2012
September 24th, 2012
Overnight everyone has grown up. While she was becoming, everyone grew up and became.
Zadie Smith in “NW” (via britticisms)
September 3rd, 2012