After all, life doesn’t offer a man much. You work like the devil and think you’re getting on, and suddenly you discover that you’ve only been getting yourself tied up. A million details drink you dry. Your life keeps going for things you don’t care a rap about. I sometimes wonder what sort of chap I’d have been if I hadn’t been this sort; I want to go and live out his potentialities, too. I haven’t forgotten that there are birds in the bushes.
— Willa Cather, Alexander’s Bridge (via bluesandbarebones)
It was all so strange
And so surreal
That a ghost should be so practical
To me, life seems to stretch out endlessly, like a long, dusty desert.
— A Bounty of Blandings
Feel that sun just hold you right,
leave you burning down the night.
Feel that wind lap up your soul
if you cannot let it go.
If I cannot let it go.
Often I sit and think of looking at things. The greed of my eye is insatiable.To think of seeing a new place fills me with unmeasurable excitement.
— Virginia Woolf, Diary Entry, 5 March, 1927. (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
Girls were creatures referred to in many ways he did not understand. He always saw them at a distance, and above him, for God made them finer and gentler and sweeter than he and the other boys.
— Christ in Concrete
She had the perpetual sense, as she watched the taxi cabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very, dangerous to live even one day.
— Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway (via beermethatquote)
