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deerbheth:

“Then I understood the impossibility of love. We think its object is the person before us, enclosed in her body. Alas, it is this person reaching out to all the points of space and time she has ever occupied or will occupy in the future. If we do not possess her contact with a certain place, a certain hour, we do not possess her. Still, if we had them pointed out to us, perhaps we too could reach those points. But we feel around blindly and do not find them.”

—Marcel Proust, The Captive

(via anomalousarchive)

caittherunnerr:

please don’t be temporary

(via syrian-bitch)

sofiyaalexandrovnarostova:

reblog if ur also a moron who enjoys misinterpreting classic literature

(via nehmesis)

monstrsacre:

“I was … attacked for being a pasticheur, chided for composing ‘simple’ music, blamed for deserting ‘modernism,’ accused of renouncing my 'true Russian heritage.’ People who had never heard of, or cared about, the originals cried 'sacrilege’: 'The classics are ours. Leave the classics alone.’ To them all my answer was and is the same: You 'respect,’ but I love.”

— Igor Stravinsky, Expositions and Developments, 1959

violentwavesofemotion:

“I cannot love anyone I do not respect.”

— Simone de Beauvoir, tr. by Justin O’Brien, from “The Woman Destroyed,”

(via jazbaaati)

re-flashero:

feelings

(via enamorer)

violentwavesofemotion:

“Pauses mean something. Silence means something.”

— Leszek Szaruga, tr. by W. D. Snodgrass, from “Licentia Poetica,”

(via violentwavesofemotion-deactivat)

dostevsky:

“I think that people would just consider me to be mad if I let it be known what I consider myself to be.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche, from a letter to Franz Overbeck