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Devastating! Art museum gift shop doesn’t sell prints of specific and unpopular painting that struck a cord with you!
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i love studying. i love writing. i love reading. i love learning languages. i love doing mathematics. i love wandering over some particular sum and trying to come up with formulas to solve it. i love physics. i love biology. i love chemistry. i love history. i love literature. i love learning.
not to achieve the perfect grades ever. but it just amazes me that there’s so much to know and learn and write and read about in the universe. my curiosity wouldn’t get enough of it.
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it’s fine i’ve been feeling lost lately too.
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Surely this cup of coffee will bring all my loved ones near me and also bring back my youthful curiosity for the world and what i can do in my brief time in
it
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Glass Staircase at the Go'o Shrine (2002) Designed by: Hiroshi Sugimoto
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I’m so angry. I don’t know when I turned into this inferno of seething rage. Perhaps it is a rite of girlhood, as you grow, each unfair encounter adds more kindling to an already burning blaze in your body. Because it seems like yesterday that I turned 18, and I have a fire in me that feels like it’s been burning for millennia. And when I lash out, finally cracking, the world will burn.
Oh, how hard it is to be a woman with embers in her veins and a scream in her throat.
-Adya K, excerpt from The Imperfect Clone
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Shirley Jackson, from We Have Always Lived in the Castle
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found this heavily annotated beautiful beautiful copy at a used books’ store
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(literature girl summer) we’re back to finishing a book in two days
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cannot stand the fact that there are people out there who i love that i don’t even say happy birthday to anymore! there are people living and exsist in this world who i knew better than anyone…and i don’t know how their pets are, i don’t know if they still argue with their father anymore. there are people who i love and will continue to love who live on without me. and maybe i’m a passing thought in their mind but do they know that i love them? that i loved them? that i miss the smell of their house? that i forgot what color their bedroom walls were. that i miss the sound of their mother working in her home office…do they know that my loves spreads endlessly? do they know?!!!!!!!
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— Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959.
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babe are u okay ur crying about closeness lines over time by olivia de recat again
