QuoteStuff

“I dream of lost vocabularies that might express some of what we no longer can.”Jack Gilbert

Educator, 27, Dubai

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Some day soon, perhaps in forty years, there will be no one alive who has ever known me. That’s when I will be truly dead - when I exist in no one’s memory. I thought a lot about how someone very old is the last living individual to have known some person or cluster of people. When that person dies, the whole cluster dies,too, vanishes from the living memory. I wonder who that person will be for me. Whose death will make me truly dead?

Irvin D. Yalom, Love’s Executioner and Other Tales of Psychotherapy

I want in fact more of you. In my mind I am dressing you with light; I am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then I give myself to you. I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you.

Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena

(via whyallcaps)

It is no surprise to me that hardly anyone tells the truth about how they feel. The smart ones keep themselves to themselves for good reason. Why would you want to tell anyone anything that’s dear to you? Even when you like them and want nothing more than to be closer than close to them? It’s so painful to be next to someone you feel strongly about and know you can’t say the things you want to.

Henry Rollins, Yelling Mime

(via whyallcaps)

When everyday seems the same, it is because we have stopped noticing the good things that appear in our lives.

Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

If you could kick the person in the pants responsible for most of your trouble, you wouldn’t sit for a month.

Theodore Roosevelt

War isn’t Hell. War is war, and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is a lot worse. There are no innocent bystanders in Hell. War is chock full of them - little kids, cripples, old ladies. In fact, except for some of the brass, almost everybody involved is an innocent bystander.

Hawkeye, M*A*S*H

Reality has become so intolerable, she said, so bleak, that all I can paint now are the colors of my dreams.

Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran

I need my small, meaningless lies. I need all my self-created semi-truths. It’s the only way for me to keep exclusive parts of myself to myself. Believe me, I do not even perceive them as lies. It’s something different that keeps happening inside my head. At the same time, I long to tell you the truth about me, always. I want to share with you each important or unimportant detail and feel and fully embrace the very act of sharing. But it occurs to me that it’s the hardests of tasks; I hate it. I hate unveiling bits and pieces of anything permanent or temporary that resides in me. I loathe it with my heart. You can find more honesty in the smallest of my gestures rather in my words; my words are too impatient, too loose, too doomed in some way.
You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.

Azar Nafisi

(via quotestuff)

Instead of complaining that the rosebush is full of thorns, be happy that the thorn bush has roses.

German Proverb

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