Simon & Garfunkel are even better in black-and-white.

1 note / 23.03.11 / Permalink
Reblogged from monstaar with 33,895 notes / 18.03.11 / Permalink

Rest you now easy
Now rest my brother John
Your journey has been long
Your road was filled with song
And I miss you now you’re gone

Alexi Murdoch, “The Ragged Sea”
1 note / 17.03.11 / Permalink

All my life I’ve been harassed by questions: Why is something this way and not another? How do you account for that? This rage to understand, to fill in the blanks, only makes life more banal. If we could only find the courage to leave our destiny to chance, to accept the fundamental mystery of our lives, then we might be closer to the sort of happiness that comes with innocence.

My Last Sigh by Luis Buñuel (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
Reblogged from fuckyeahexistentialism with 425 notes / 09.03.11 / Permalink

He tries hard to songwrite his way out of bed
But nothing tastes as clever as it sounded in his head

Jay Brannan, “On All Fours”
0 notes / 08.03.11 / Permalink
cellophanesoul:

(by Mark Chadwick)
Reblogged from vaughanders with 15,312 notes / 07.03.11 / Permalink

While you stand there in the hall, with the envelope in your hand, you feel there’s an eye on you, a great big eye looking straight at you from miles and dark and through walls and houses and through your coat and vest and hide and sees you huddled up way inside, in the dark which is you, inside yourself, like a clammy, sad little foetus you carry around inside yourself. The eye knows what’s in the envelope, and it is watching you to see you when you open it and know, too. But the clammy, sad little foetus which is you way down in the dark which is you too lifts up its sad little face and its eyes are blind, and it shivers cold inside you for it doesn’t want to know what is in that envelope. It wants to lie in the dark and not know, and be warm in its not-knowing. The end of man is knowledge, but there is one thing he can’t know. He can’t know whether knowledge will save him or kill him. He will be killed, all right, but he can’t know whether he is killed because of the knowledge which he has got or because of the knowledge which he hasn’t got and which if he had it, would save him. There’s the cold in your stomach, but you open the envelope, you have to open the envelope, for the end of man is to know.

Robert Penn Warren, All the King’s Men (1946)
1 note / 07.03.11 / Permalink

Silence, experience shows, is what terrifies people most.

1 note / 24.02.11 / Permalink
0 notes / 23.02.11 / Permalink
7 notes / 23.02.11 / Permalink