Gemma: Do you ever feel that way?
Kartik: Lonely?
Gemma: Restless. As if you haven't really met yourself yet. As is you'd passed yourself once in the fog, and your heart leapt - 'Ah! There I Am! I've been missing that piece!' But it happens too fast, and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it.
Kartik: Do you know what I think?
Gemma: What?
Kartik: Sometimes, I think you can glimpse it in another.
Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children.
The Book Thief (via cthornhill)
(via dawseyadams)
You clench your teeth. You look up. You tell yourself that if they see you cry, it will hurt them, and you will be nothing but a sadness in their lives, and you must not become a mere sadness, so you will not cry, and you say all of this to yourself while looking up at the ceiling, and then you swallow even though your throat does not want to close and you look at the person who loves you and smile.
John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via bookmania)
Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything it is because we are dangerously near to wanting nothing. There are two opposing poles of wanting nothing: When one is so full and rich and has so many inner worlds that the outer world is not necessary for joy, because joy emanates from the inner core of one’s being. When one is dead and rotten inside and there is nothing in the world: not all the woman, food, sun or mind-magic of others can reach the wormy core of one’s gutted soul planet.
Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath (via bookmania)
It’s like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.
Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind (via theclosenessofher)
(Source: dawseyadams)
