7 May 2013
The past is a curious thing. It’s with you all the time. I suppose an hour never passes without your thinking of things that happened ten or twenty years ago, and yet most of the time it’s got no reality, it’s just a set of facts that you’ve learned, like a lot of stuff in a history book. Then some chance sight or sound or smell, especially smell, sets you going, and the past doesn’t merely come back to you, you’re actually IN the past. It was like that at this moment.”
― George Orwell, Coming Up for Air
— (via journalofanobody)
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88 notes
12 Apr 2013
12 Apr 2013
28 Mar 2013

I read my books with diligence, and mounting skills and gathering certainty.
I read the way a person might swim, to save his or her life.

I wrote that way too.

—Mary Oliver, from “Staying Alive,” in Blue Pastures (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1995)

(Source: growing-orbits, via apoetreflects)

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134 notes
26 Mar 2013
I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testify (by their own lonesome familiarity) to this feeling.
— Jack Kerouac

(via journalofanobody)

1,404 notes
21 Mar 2013
20 Mar 2013
18 Mar 2013

In the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an angel
Living in the garden of evil
Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed
Shining like a fiery beacon

You got that medicine I need
Fame, liquor, love, give it to me slowly
Put your hands on my waist do it softly
Me and God, we don’t get along, so now I sing

No one’s gonna take my soul away
Living like Jim Morrison
Headed towards a fucked up holiday
Motel, sprees, sprees and I’m singing

Fuck yeah, give it to me
This is heaven
What I truly want
Is innocence lost.
Innocence lost.

In the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an angel
Looking to get fucked hard
Like a groupie incognito
Posing as a real singer
Life imitates art

You got that medicine that I need
Dope, shoot it up, straight to the heart please
I don’t really wanna know what’s good for me
God’s dead, I said ‘Baby that’s alright with me’

No one’s gonna take my soul away
Living like Jim Morrison
headed towards a fucked up holiday
Motel, speed, sprees and I’m singing

Fuck yeah, give it to me
This is heaven
What I truly want
Is innocence lost.
Innocence lost.

When you talk, it’s like a movie and you’re making me crazy
‘Cause life imitates art
If I get a little prettier, can I be your baby?
You tell me life isn’t that hard

No one’s gonna take my soul away
I’m living like Jim Morrison
Headed towards a fucked up holiday
Motel, speed, sprees, and I’m singing

Fuck yeah, give it to me
This is heaven
What I truly want
Is innocence lost.
Innocence lost.

//Lana Del Rey, Gods & Monsters

5 notes
15 Mar 2013
14 Mar 2013
13 Mar 2013

Going There

Of course it was a disaster.
the unbearable, dearest secret
has always been a disaster.
The danger when we try to leave.
Going over and over afterward
what we should have done
instead of what we did.
But for those short times
we seemed to be alive. Misled,
misused, lied to and cheated,
certainly. Still, for that
little while, we visited
our possible life.


Jack Gilbert
from The Great Fires: Poems 1982-1992, 2001, Alfred A. Knopf. 

(Source: fluttering-slips, via journalofanobody)

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95 notes
12 Mar 2013
11 Mar 2013
journalofanobody: “When you look back on a lifetime and think of what has been given to the world by your presence, your fugitive presence, inevitably you think of your art, whatever it may be, as the gift you have made to the world in acknowledgment of the gift you have been given, which is the life itself… That work is not an expression of the desire for praise or recognition, or prizes, but the deepest manifestation of your gratitiude for the gift of life.” ― Stanley Kunitz

journalofanobody:

“When you look back on a lifetime and think of what has been given to the world by your presence, your fugitive presence, inevitably you think of your art, whatever it may be, as the gift you have made to the world in acknowledgment of the gift you have been given, which is the life itself… That work is not an expression of the desire for praise or recognition, or prizes, but the deepest manifestation of your gratitiude for the gift of life.” 
― Stanley Kunitz

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11 notes
8 Mar 2013
7 Mar 2013