Wednesday, 31 October 2012

I've got autumn leaves and heartbreak dreams inside, cause you and me on this frozen sea we slide

Sometimes you find the panel, but it doesn’t open; sometimes it opens, and your gaze meets nothing but a mouse skeleton. But at least you’ve looked. That’s the real distinction between people: not between those who have secrets and those who don’t, but between those who want to know everything and those who don’t. This search is a sign of love I maintain.
Julian Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot

Monday, 29 October 2012

Fill my head with the future, fill my eyes with the sky, all my life been left behind but I never felt more alive

Love is by definition an unmerited gift; being loved without meriting it is the very proof of real love. If a woman tells me: I love you because you're intelligent, because you're decent, because you buy me gifts, because you don't chase women, because you do the dishes, then I'm disappointed; such love seems a rather self-interested business. How much finer it is to hear: I'm crazy about you even though you're neither intelligent nor decent, even though you're a liar, an egotist, a bastard. Milan Kundera

Sunday, 28 October 2012

When I was young and moving fast nothing slowed me down, now I let the others pass I've come around, 'cause I've found

Our good fortune allowed us to feel a sadness our parents never had time for and a happiness that I never saw with them. We didn't know how we learned the stories in our heads but sometimes they stop running and I can really see her eyes in 2003. Oliver, Beginners

Thursday, 25 October 2012

So I can cry your name and call you when I’m sad, when you have gone, run so far from me in the trees so far

ο πιο αγαπημένος μου αυτές τις μέρες

But what is the imagination for if not to grasp how the world feels to those who don't think what you think?

"I really enjoy hearing people’s interpretations of things. That’s one of the reasons I try not to - as much any more - talk as literally about what’s going on. Especially when people in other countries hear it and put a spin on it and you’re like “Wow, yeah, I’m glad it’s become that for you." Alex Turner

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

And I hold you to the light to see and keep you safe inside of me oh, restore this crack so

I was never a man of great ambition
I cried too easily I didn't have a head for science
Words often failed me
While others prayed
I only moved my lips
Nicole Krauss, The History Of Love

Hate that there's a space to fill, always have and always will, I'm there when your fingers snap it's not where we left it at

when you left
you took almost 
I kneel in the nights 
before tigers 
that will not let me be. 

what you were
will not happen again. 
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.
Charles Bukowski

Take me to where you are, what you've become and what you will do when I am gone, I won't forget, I won't forget

πολύ ωραία ιστορία για σχέσεις· ο πολ ντάνο είναι συγγραφέας και ερωτεύεται ένα πρόσωπο που δημιουργεί καθώς γράφει και αυτή μια μέρα εμφανίζεται πραγματική στο σπίτι του. πολύ ταιριαστοί χαρακτήρες και αγαπημένοι διαφορετικά.

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve and I have always buried them deep beneath the ground

Bastille at KOKO 19/10/2012: στο αγαπημένο μου μέρος, το παλιό θέατρο με την ωραία ατμόσφαιρα και την τεράστια ντισκόμπαλα στο ταβάνι. έπαιξαν rhythm of the night στο τέλος με όλους να χορεύουν και να σπρώχνονται. ο τραγουδιστής με τα τεράστια μαλλιά χόρευε κάτω με το κοινό και όλοι ήθελαν φωτογραφίες, για όλα πρέπει να υπάρχουν φωτογραφίες. έπαιξαν τα αγαπημένα μου flaws και sleepsong και με έκαναν να χαμογελάω.

Someone hold me, I’m done with this game, said I’m sorry, but i'm not to blame, what a shame

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden

So we fuck till we come to conclusions, all the things that we thought we were losing, I'm a ghost and you know this

This is one more piece of advice I have for you: don’t get impatient. Even if things are so tangled up you can’t do anything, don’t get desperate or blow a fuse and start yanking on one particular thread before it’s ready to come undone. You have to figure it’s going to be a long process and that you’ll work on things slowly, one at a time. Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

Sunday, 21 October 2012

Where do we start if we will end apart, where do we go from here? It's head versus heart, it will all be clear someday

Είναι ενδιαφέρον πώς έχουν υπάρξει άνθρωποι σαν εσένα στο παρελθόν. Πώς αυτό που νομίζεις ότι είχες και είναι μοναδικό έκανε και κάποιον άλλο να νιώθει έτσι μια άλλη μέρα σε μιά άλλη εποχή.

Thursday, 18 October 2012

Wednesday, 17 October 2012

You go to sleep on your own and you wake each day with your thoughts and it scares you being alone, it's a last resort

I wanted to become a person who could take away the tears that flowed from people’s eyes and the sorrow that was in their hearts. When I was lying in the forest listening to the songs of the birds, I would think “The world needs to be made as warm and tender as those songs. I should become someone who makes people’s lives as fragrant as flowers.” I didn’t know what career I should pursue to accomplish that, but I became convinced that I should be a person who could give happiness to people.
Sun Myung Moon, As a Peace-Loving Global Citizen

Sunday, 14 October 2012

Cause I don't know what to say, another day, another excuse to be sent your way

Andrew: Fuck, this hurts so much. Sam: I know it hurts. That's life. If nothing else, It's life. It's real, and sometimes it fuckin' hurts, but it's sort of all we have. Andrew: Safe... when I'm with you I feel so safe... like I'm home. Garden State

Friday, 12 October 2012

Depth over distance every time my dear and this tree of ours may grow tall in the woods but it's the roots that will bind us here to the ground

It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road

The two men had walked in the underground wagon long after I had. They stood next to each other, talking about things I could not hear and even if I did maybe I would not understand. What I noticed first were their t-shirts. Two guys with more than fifty years of age, had ‘I love daddies’ and ‘who you callin’ fat boy?’ written on their chests. Regardless of that substantial amount of humour they represented, they seemed really serious and concentrated on their talk. One of them had a ginger beard which matched perfectly the grey cap on his head, balancing the contrast in colours. The other one wore massive boots and straps were holding up his trousers. When they sat across me I noticed more. They looked like they were coming back from a metal music concert at five in the afternoon. These rough looking men, a couple with an unknown bond acted so delicately and carefully towards each other. The trains moved quickly behind my back, casting colours at the men’s faces and between lights and darkness and shapes of the underground the bearded man put his hand on his companion’s knee. ‘Not in public John’ he said in a soft voice and a smile, which made me feel like I had a special insight in this private moment in the most public space. Their connection could compare to the in between places. The ones with great significance which often go unnoticed - the ones that move us from where we are to where we want to be.

If you’re writing a book you’ve got nothing but words for everything: behaviour, looks, thoughts, feelings, the whole boiling

And I have one of those very loud, stupid laughs. I mean if I ever sat behind myself in a movie or something, I'd probably lean over and tell myself to please shut up.
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Thursday, 11 October 2012

Sometimes silence is a habit that hurts

We all need someone to look at us. we can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under. the first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public. the second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes. they are the tireless hosts of cocktail parties and dinners. they are happier than the people in the first category, who, when they lose their public, have the feeling that the lights have gone out in the room of their lives. this happens to nearly all of them sooner or later. people in the second category, on the other hand, can always come up with the eyes they need. then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love. their situation is as dangerous as the situation of people in the first category. one day the eyes of their beloved will close, and the room will go dark. and finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. they are the dreamers. Milan Kundera

Tuesday, 9 October 2012

And her dreams in the bright day make the suns evaporate and me laugh cry and laugh speak when I have nothing to say

Probably for every man there is at least one city that sooner or later turns into a girl. How well or how badly the man actually knew the girl doesn’t necessarily affect the transformation. She was there, and she was the whole city, and that’s that. J.D. Salinger

Certain things, they should stay the way they are, you ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone

He thinks about her, at this moment, in her house, a few thin walls away, packing her life into boxes and bags and he wonders what memories she is rediscovering, what thoughts are catching in her mouth like the dust blown from unused textbooks. He wonders if she has buried any traces of herself under her floorboards. He wonders what those traces would be if she had. And he wonders again why he thinks about her so much when he knows so little to think about.
Jon McGregor, If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things

Sunday, 7 October 2012

Bet is hardly shown, scraped across the foam like they stole it and oh, how they hold it

Tell me you'll feel better when you're sleeping through the day and I'll tell you how you missed it when you wake

We throw our parties; we abandon our families to live alone in Canada; we struggle to write books that do not change the world, despite our gifts and our unstinting efforts, our most extravagant hopes. We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep. It's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out windows, or drown themselves, or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us are slowly devoured by some disease, or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so… Michael Cunningham, The Hours

Stop a moment, cease your work, look around you

Voices, I’d say. The sound of their voices. That’s what I miss most. That’s what you forget first. Then the faces… Blurry, less clear… You’ve got photos. No one ages. Even memories fade out. We change them, make them nicer. But voices… Once you’ve lost them, they’re gone forever. Les adoptés

Friday, 5 October 2012

But I know that's what you love cause you know I love the same

She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood. She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.
Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things