but she would never admit to the wolf that she was scared or that her naked skin showed teeth and claw marks that were never his.
You don’t need religion to have morals. If you can’t determine right from wrong then you lack empathy, not religion.
It is necessary to fall in love, if only to provide an alibi for all the random despair you are going to feel anyway.
I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
I asked her if she believed in love, and she smiled and said it was her most elaborate method of self-harm
I felt like crying but nothing came out. It was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can’t feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. But I think I have known it pretty often, too often.
Charles Bukowski, Tales of Ordinary Madness
I don’t know how to answer. I know what I think, but words in the head are like voices under water. They are distorted.
Your whole idea about yourself is borrowed - borrowed from those who have no idea of who they are themselves.
I am calm. I am calm. It is the calm before something awful: The yellow minute before the wind walks, when the leaves turn up their hands, their pallors. It is so quiet here. I am dumb and brown. I am a seed about to break. The brownness is my dead self, and it is sullen; It does not wish to be more, or different.
Sylvia Plath, Three Women
I can’t tell you exactly what I’m looking for, but I’ll know when it happens. I want to be breathless and weak, crumpled by the entrance of another person inside my soul. I want to be violated by insight.
Aimee Bender (via sheeluv)
In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses.
Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies
Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”. Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…