aseaofquotes: Don DeLillo, White Noise

aseaofquotes:

Don DeLillo, White Noise

(via tohhh)

(Source: and-fade-out-again, via tohhh)

There are many things in your heart you can never tell to another person. They are you, your private joys and sorrows, and you can never tell them. You cheapen yourself, the inside of yourself, when you tell them.

Greta Garbo

(via giovannafalcone1)

(Source: heygirlcrawley, via tohhh)

The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence.

Charles Bukowski  (via burnthazel)

(Source: quote-book)

I don’t think you’re quitting because you believe these things you say. I don’t. I think you want to believe them, because you’re quitting. And you want me to agree with you, and you want me to say, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re right. It’s all fucked up. It’s a fucking mess. We should all go live in a fucking log cabin.” But I won’t. I don’t agree with you. I do not. I can’t.

David Mills, Se7en (via quote-book)

why

have I suddenly become illiterate?

I was going to become rich and famous and well-dressed and suave. But in four years I’ve learned that I am not going to become rich and famous and well-dressed and suave.

The Heart of a Broken Story, J D Salinger (via riazm)

pretty much it

pretty much it

(Source: someecards.com, via daniel-cope)

…

A young man walks towards me - lanky, but without the coyness of adolescence, which has been cast away by scars, burns, chips, experience. Rosy-cheeked and starry-eyed, the fresh-faced youth bears a mucky, beaten rucksack, torn like his skin; it does not burden him but relieves him. Earthy shorts and a damp and limp t-shirt hang from accidental muscles, manifested through miles of dirt track and unmarked territory. Coming closer, I can smell the open air on his clothes, unwashed but not uncomfortably dirty, just natural. Salt particles invade me and claim their home on my tastebuds. Then comes the leafy musk of the earth and gritty sand from beaches searched and violated. His skin embodies his essence, rough around the edges; stubble makes no apology for its presence. He is strong and sturdy, resilient. A scottish softness resonates then leaves a yankee aftertaste and and a european acoustic. His name chimes and is all that’s left as he makes haste to unwrap another corner of the infinite gift bestowed upon him.

Fran. 19. English Student. I love mutuality and I hate bad manners. Be good to yourselves and others.