An Authors Mind, Is A New World
felisque:

Ocean by Elena Kalis on Flickr.

felisque:

Ocean by Elena Kalis on Flickr.

weeaboo-chan:

important

slowcookedgoose:

Stranger on the shore? Nah, my son again. #Barry Island, 10 November 2013. #BarryIsland #Wales #UK #Igerscardiff #Beach #Play #Autumn #Sunday #Autunno #Domenica #Spiaggia #Giovanotto (at Whitmore Bay)

slowcookedgoose:

Stranger on the shore? Nah, my son again. #Barry Island, 10 November 2013. #BarryIsland #Wales #UK #Igerscardiff #Beach #Play #Autumn #Sunday #Autunno #Domenica #Spiaggia #Giovanotto (at Whitmore Bay)

You don’t put your past in your pocket; you have to have a house. I have only my body: a man entirely alone, with his lonely body, cannot indulge in memories; they pass through him. I shouldn’t complain: all I wanted was to be free.
Nausea - Jean-Paul Sartre (via countlesspetals)
laurajaworski:

(via Book Magic | Books & Words)
The book, if you would see anything in it, requires to be read in the clear, brown, twilight atmosphere in which it was written; if opened in the sunshine, it is apt to look exceedingly like a volume of blank pages.
Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864)
In the crack where illusion meets reality, that’s where you are, out there on the road, and the road is you.
Robert James Waller (via listentothestories)
The paradox of individuation is that we best serve intimate relationship by becoming sufficiently developed in ourselves that we do not need to feed off others.
James Hollis, The Middle Passage: From Misery to Meaning in Midlife (via astrophil-to-stella)
The world is a stage, but the play is badly cast.
Oscar Wilde (via angelidemorte)

mindbarbarasoul:

Delicately accurate depiction of depression: “Those joys were so small that they passed unnoticed, like gold in sand, and at bad moments she could see nothing but the pain, nothing but the sand […].” - Tolstoy, “Anna Karenina”