Some nights I think you want too much. From me.
Adrienne Rich, from You, Again (via violentwavesofemotion)


And I find it kinda funny I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had

(via violentwavesofemotion)

I returned home with a feeling of absolute loneliness.

Usually that feeling of being alone in the world is accompanied by a condescending sense of superiority. I scorn all humankind; people around me seem vile, sordid, stupid, greedy, gross, niggardly. I do not fear solitude ; it is almost Olympian.

That night, like many other nights, I was alone as a consequence of my own failings, my own depravity. At such times the world seems despicable, even though I know that I am necessarily a part of it. Then a frenzy to obliterate everything sweeps over me ; I let myself be seduced by the temptation of suicide ; I get drunk ; I look for prostitutes. I receive a certain satisfaction from proving my own baseness, in confirming that I am no better than the lowest of the low around me.

Ernesto Sabato, from The Tunnel
(via litafficionado)

Samantha Keely Smith paints breathtaking abstract landscapes that resemble the swirling waters of the ocean.
Charles Bukowski - Consummation Of Grief 
She always says she dislikes the abnormal, it is so obvious. She says the normal is so much more simply complicated and interesting.

28 Days Later OST - Taxi (Ave Maria)

(Source: todoroffdesign)


* Vladimir Nabokov, teaching his students how to read Kafka, pointed out to them that the insect into which Gregor Samsa is transformed is in fact a winged beetle, an insect that carries its wings under its armoured back, and that if Gregor had only discovered them, he would have been able to escape. And then Nabokov added: “Many a Dick and a Jane grow up like Gregor, unaware that they too have wings and can fly.”
I’ve got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts - you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn’t do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.
D.D. Barant, Dying Bites (via left-nut)

(Source: uglypnis, via barzscholomew)

those who escape hell
never talk about
and nothing much
bothers them
Charles Bukowski  (via tiredestprincess)

(Source: blackistheonlycolor, via ladygoldenhair)


Serge Gainsbourg - Ballade de Melody Nelson
(Histoire De Melody Nelson, 1971)

Il y a donc un quelque chose qui détruit ma pensée ; un quelque chose qui ne m’empêche pas d’être ce que je pourrais être, mais qui me laisse, si je puis dire, en suspens.
Antonin Artaud, Correspondance avec Jacques Rivière (via belluas)

(via belluas-deactivated20140614)

Le Vent Nous Portera | Sophie Hunger 

(Source: yanfiratyan)


“Once you are awake, you shall remain awake eternally.”

—F. Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra: Part Three, “The Convalescent,” §1 (excerpt).


Koop Island Blues | Koop