You have to die a few times before you can really
Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last (via feellng)
I’m either happy because of nothing, or sad because of everything
From my diary (via bambive)
Then the feeling moves on. It does not collapse; it is not whisked away. It simply moves on, like a train that stops at a small country station, stands for a while, and then continues out of sight.
The Hours (Michael Cunningham)
…and you drink a little too much and try a little too hard. And you go home to a cold bed and think, ‘That was fine’. And your life is a long line of fine.
Gone Girl (Gillian Flynn)