I feel that art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness which characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm. I think that art has something to do with an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction. — Saul Bellow  (via petrichour)

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We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls. — Anaïs Nin (via elige)

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Has it ever struck you that life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quick you hardly catch it going? — Tennessee Williams, The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore

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quixotic [kwik-sot-ik] (adjective) In our list of most interesting words, quixotic is the most romantic in every sense. To be quixotic means to be excessively romantic and chivalrous; illogical, idealistic, overall dreamy. It is viewed as an over-idealism filled with absurdity.  (via wordsnquotes)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something. — Unknown (via wethinkwedream)

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Long ago, among other lies they were taught that silence was bravery. Charles Bukowski, Play the Piano Drunk Like an Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit (via wordsnquotes)

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There is no permanent Hell, there is no permanent Heaven. Therefore, the suffering that we sense during this transition of life is not a permanent condition that we need to be afraid of. It’s not where we’re going to end up. We end liberated from the suffering either by death, or in life, by waking up to the nature of our situation and not clinging and grasping, screaming and being angry, resentful, irritable or insulted by our existence. — Allen Ginsberg, “Negative Capability: Kerouac’s Buddhist Ethic” (via happinessandfruit)

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Scare the world: Be exactly who you say you are and tell the truth. — (via thatonegirljenna)

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You can be in a relationship for two years and feel nothing; you can be in a relationship for 2 months and feel everything. Time is not a measure of quality; of infatuation, or of love. — What my relationships have taught me. (via lozzat)

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cultureincart:

The cute little monk in Xichan Temple, Fuzhou, southeast China’s Fujian Province.

(via falling-for-books)

Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It’s like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can’t stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship.

Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Wrinting and Life. (via bookporn)

obstinate-and-headstrong

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Most of my life has been spent trying to shrink myself. Trying to become smaller. Quieter. Less sensitive. Less opinionated. Less needy. Less me. Because I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t want to be too much or push people away. I wanted people to like me. I wanted to be cared for and valued. I wanted to be wanted. So for years, I sacrificed myself for the sake of making other people happy. And for years, I suffered. But I’m tired of suffering, and I’m done shrinking. It’s not my job to change who I am in order to become someone else’s idea of a worthwhile human being. I am worthwhile. Not because other people think I am, but because I exist, and therefore I matter. My thoughts matter. My feelings matter. My voice matters. And with or without anyone’s permission or approval, I will continue to be who I am and speak my truth. Even if it makes people angry. Even if it makes them uncomfortable. Even if they choose to leave. I refuse to shrink. I choose to take up space. I choose honor my feelings. I choose to give myself permission to get my needs met. I choose to make self-care a priority. I choose me. — Daniell Koepke  (via internal-acceptance-movement)

(via internal-acceptance-movement)

My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. Everything interests me, but nothing holds me. — Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (via wordsnquotes)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)