I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else.
—Nikos Kazantzakis, from Zorba the Greek (John Lehmann, Ltd., 1946)
(Source: wordpainting, via nogreatillusion)
“No amount of love can cure madness or unblacken one’s dark moods. Love can help, it can make the pain more tolerable, but, always, one is beholden to medication that may or may not always work and may or may not be bearable.”
(Kay Redfield Jamison, “An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness”)
I’ve been saying I would join the gym for 4 years and I finally did it and I went on the stationary bike for an hour yesterday and then I started sneezing and obviously I am allergic to exercise.
Truth.
“I fall in love with ideas and fantasies rather than whole beings and then I sit here and wonder why I’m still alone. It’s because I don’t fucking pay attention. I’m too busy thinking about tomorrow that today falls through the cracks.”
(Ryan O’Connell, “I’m Trying to Love You More”)
(Source: thoughtcatalog.com)
No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
—C.S. Lewis - A Grief Observed (via thefreenomad)
(Source: creatingaquietmind, via a-thousand-desires)
Melancholic, one of the four bodily humors part of Shakespearean cosmology, inherited from the ancient Greek philosophers Aristotle, Hippocrates, and Galen.
(via theredshoes)
And there’s something else. On a regular basis, I will be walking around, going about my business, and I’ll see the Empire State Building or the Brooklyn Bridge and it’ll suddenly hit me again. My God. I live here. In a city some people dream their whole lives of just seeing once. That’s pretty goddamn magical.
—from this amazing post about “on not being middle class in New York City” (via remnant)
(Source: lajoiedevivre, via nogreatillusion)
Want.
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