The mind of the man who dreams is fully satisfied by what happens to him. The agonizing question of possibility is no longer pertinent. Kill, fly faster, love to your heart’s content. And if you should die, are you not certain of reawaking among the dead? Let yourself be carried along, events will not tolerate your interference. You are nameless. The ease of everything is priceless.

Andre Breton, Surrealist Manifesto (via kalliope-amorphous)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

Lament

Listen, children:
Your father is dead.
From his old coats
I’ll make you little jackets;
I’ll make you little trousers
From his old pants.
There’ll be in his pockets
Things he used to put there,
Keys and pennies
Covered with tobacco;
Dan shall have the pennies
To save in his bank;
Anne shall have the keys
To make a pretty noise with.
Life must go on,
And the dead be forgotten;
Life must go on,
Though good men die;
Anne, eat your breakfast;
Dan, take your medicine;
Life must go on;
I forget just why.
#toast  

bandname

smart young professional

bandname

dumb jung professor

#yolo  #comics  

I see that u are a logger

and not just a common bum

for nobody but a logger

stirs his coffee with his thumb

The writerly [text] is the novelistic without the novel, poetry without the poem, the essay without the dissertation, writing without style, production without product, structuration without structure.

roland barthes S/Z AN ESSAY

Whosoever is delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god.

Plato, Protag..I 337, (via wordsnquotes)

(via fuckyeahexistentialism)

If you do not specify and confront real issues, what you say will surely obscure them. If you do not alarm anyone morally, you will yourself remain morally asleep. If you do not embody controversy, what you say will be an acceptance of the drift to the coming human hell.

C. Wright Mills (via spaecetravels)
likeafieldmouse:

Paul Schiek - Good By Angels

likeafieldmouse:

Paul Schiek - Good By Angels

(via mepbon)

'Like' and 'like' and 'like'—but what is the thing that lies beneath the semblance of the thing?

Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via heteroglossia)