The truth
really does set you free.
It really bothers me
that EVERY little bit of your so called “originality” has been drawn from very personal pieces of other people. Especially their thoughts. I’ve seen you do it to others and you’ve always done it to me. You take MY thoughts. MY musings. It makes it really hard to be friends with someone when they take the ONLY thing you have to offer and claim it as their own. Even more so when they don’t understand why YOU have such a personal attachment to an idea. I wish you would stop being what you aren’t.
Often it is the most deserving people who cannot help loving those who destroy them.
— Hermann Hesse (via thechocolatebrigade)
He was always doing that these days. Everything he saw became a symbol of his own existence, from a rabbit caught in headlights to raindrops racing down a window-pane. Perhaps it was a sign that he was going to become a poet or a philosopher: the kind of person who, when he stood on the sea-shore, didn’t see waves breaking on a beach, but saw the surge of human will or the rhythms of copulation, who didn’t hear the sound of the tide but heard the eroding roar of time and the last moaning sigh of humanity fizzing into nothingness. But perhaps it was a sign, he also thought, that he was turning into a pretentious wanker.
— The Liar by Stephen Fry (via thechocolatebrigade)
By living our lives, we nurture death. True as this might be, it was only one of the truths we had to learn. What I learned from Naoko’s death was this: no truth can cure the sadness we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness, can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see that sadness through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sadness that comes to us without warning.
— Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami (via thechocolatebrigade)
