sorry but i ate your boyfriend that was in the ice box. i hate to tell you this i know you were probably saving him for breakfast. he was delicious (and sweet) (and cold) . sorry about that
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Charles Baudelaire - My Heart Laid Bare (1887)
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A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you.
- Khaled Hosseini
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“Il potere di trovare la bellezza nelle cose più umili rende la casa felice e la vita più bella. ”
-Piccole donne (Louisa May Alcott)
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"Even the constellations can see us now: we are seventeen and shattered and still dancing. We have messy, throbbing hearts, and we are stronger than anyone could ever know."
— Emery Lord, When We Collided
Art by Veronika Weroni Vajdová
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XXth century poets have 2 genders: mysoginic and homosexual
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"I believe that love is the indispensable fuel that allows us to go on living. Someday that love may end. Or it may never amount to anything. But even if love fades away, even if it's unrequited, you can still hold on to the memory of having loved someone, of having fallen in love with someone. And that's a valuable source of warmth..."
– Haruki Murakami, First Person Singular
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I think this might be my new favourite Shakespeare insult
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Saul Bellow // Humboldt’s Gift 1975.
I’m rereading this masterpiece and at least one or two phrases a page make me sigh or gasp or sniff or guffaw with baffled wonder or riotous laughter; with awe, above all else: awe. Marvel, for example, at this exquisite set-piece on Art and Culture in a modern society:
— At this point Humboldt generally spoke of Antonin Artaud. Artaud the playwright, invited the most brilliant intellectuals in Paris to a lecture. When they were assembled there was no lecture. Artaud came on stage and screamed at them like a wild beast. "Opened his mouth and screamed," said Humboldt. "Raging screams. While those Parisian intellectuals sat frightened. For them it was a delicious event. And why? Artaud as the artist was a failed priest. Failed priests specialize in blasphemy. Blasphemy is aimed at a community of believers. In this case, what kind of belief? Belief only in intellect, which a Ferenczi [Nb., Sándor Ferenczi, Hungarian psychoanalyst] has now charged with madness. But what does it mean in a larger sense? It means that the only art intellectuals can be interested in is an art which celebrates the primacy of ideas. Artists must interest intellectuals, this new class. This is why the state of culture and the history of culture become the subject matter of art. This is why a refined audience of Frenchmen listens respectfully to Artaud screaming. For them the whole purpose of art is to suggest and inspire ideas and discourse. The educated people of modern countries are a thinking rabble at the stage of what Marx called primitive accumulation. Their business is to reduce masterpieces to discourse. Artaud's scream is an intellectual thing.”
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"Everyone you meet always asks if you have a career, are married or own a house; as if life was some kind of grocery list. But nobody ever asks if you are happy. "
- Heath Ledger
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