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Without literature, life is hell
~ Charles Bukowski (via
talkingtokafka
)
03.03.13
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16:01
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19
Why is it? Why are we all so tongue-tied and spellbound? Why do we perhaps live three streets off and yet never meet? Where is the intimacy? Where is the warmth? I think human beings are fundamentally crashed by a sense of their insignificance. I am perpetually overwhelmed by realizations of this kind. And nothing matters - nothing I say, feel, or think, truly makes a difference.
-Virginia Woolf, Selected Letters
12.24.12
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01:47
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12.19.12
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13:31
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109
12.19.12
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13:29
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12.19.12
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13:29
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249
12.19.12
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13:24
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12.19.12
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13:23
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You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason. -Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast, 1964
10.22.12
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23:11
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30
10.06.12
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15:28
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7307
10.03.12
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18:20
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1342
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Canvas
by
andbamnan