“I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn’t have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn’t make for an interesting person. I didn’t want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone.”—Charles Bukowski (via thechocolatebrigade)
“Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters — sometimes very hastily — but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, “Dear Jim: I loved your card.” Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, “Jim loved your card so much he ate it.” That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.”—Maurice Sendak (via bobulate)
“The fact of otherness, and the recognition of such otherness does not
hinder intimacy; indeed an awareness of the otherness of a friend’s
world is perhaps a necessary basis for friendship. The bore is a bore
because he does not see that our world is different from his; he
trundles his world to and fro past us under the impression that the
vast hoop of his own information or exploit is itself the world, and
we turn aside from him into the separation of our own preoccupation.”—E.M. Rowell, Memory as Accompaniment
“From this I reach what I might call a philosophy; at any rate it is a constant idea of mine; that behind the cotton wool is hidden a pattern; that we—I mean all human beings—are connected with this; that the whole world is a work of art; that we are parts of the work of art. Hamlet or a Beethoven quartet is the truth about this vast mass we call the world. But there is no Shakespeare, there is no Beethoven; certainly and emphatically there is no God; we are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.”—
Virginia Woolf, Moments of Being.
Three of the most incredible sentences strung together in the history of the English language.
“Let a man get up and say, “Behold, this is the truth,” and instantly I perceive a sandy cat filching a piece of fish in the background. Look, you have forgotten the cat, I say.”—Virginia Woolf, The Waves