(Source: foxmouth, via man-of-prose)
I feel you there, in every pore. Your silence clamors in my ears. You can nail up your mouth, cut your tongue out — but you can’t prevent your being there. Can you stop your thoughts? I hear them ticking away like a clock, tick-tock, tick-tock, and I’m certain you hear mine.
Une femme est une femme, Jean Luc Godard
I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t teach you how to love somebody. They don’t teach you how to be famous. They don’t teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don’t teach you how to walk away from someone you don’t love any longer. They don’t teach you how to know what’s going on in someone else’s mind. They don’t teach you what to say to someone who’s dying. They don’t teach you anything worth knowing.
—Neil Gaiman, The Sandman
I can’t understand it and can’t believe it. I live only here and there in a small word in whose vowel I lose my useless head for a moment. The first and last letters are the beginning and end of my fishlike emotion.