“I like drinking coffee alone and reading alone. I like riding the bus alone and walking home alone. it gives me time to think and set my mind free. I like eating alone and listening to music alone. but when I see a mother with her child, a girl with her lover, or a friend laughing with their best friend, I realize that even though I like being alone, I don’t fancy being lonely. the sky is beautiful, but the people are sad. I just need someone who won’t run away.”—(via overboarddd)
“Over the last couple of years, the photos of me when I was a kid… well, they’ve started to give me a little pang or something - not unhappiness, exactly, but some kind of quiet, deep regret… I keep wanting to apologize to the little guy: “I’m sorry, I’ve let you down. I was the person who was supposed to look after you, but I blew it: I made wrong decisions at bad times, and I turned you into me.”—Nick Hornby, High Fidelity (via libraryland)
“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”—F. Scott Fitzgerald (via girlinlondon)
"240 thousand miles from the Moon, we’ve come a long way to belong here, to share this view of the night, a glorious night, over the horizon is another bright sky. Oh, my my how beautiful, oh my irrefutable father, he told me, "Son sometimes it may seem dark, but the absence of the light is a necessary part."= 93 Million Miles by Jason Mraz.
“There are some things about myself I can’t explain to anyone. There are some things I don’t understand at all. I can’t tell what I think about things or what I’m after. I don’t know what my strengths are or what I’m supposed to do about them. But if I start thinking about these things in too much detail the whole thing gets scary. And if I get scared I can only think about myself. I become really self-centered, and without meaning to, I hurt people. So I’m not such a wonderful human being.”—Haruki Murakami, A Slow Boat to China (via seoulologyy)
“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close… not even a little bit… not even at all.”—
“At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude of her life, seeking afar off some white sail in the mists of the horizon. She did not know what this chance would be, what wind would bring it her, towards what shore it would drive her, if it would be a shallop or a three-decker, laden with anguish or full of bliss to the portholes. But each morning, as she awoke, she hoped it would come that day; she listened to every sound, sprang up with a start, wondered that it did not come; then at sunset, always more saddened, she longed for the morrow.”—Gustave Flaubert (via themilesiwandered)