"The day was beautiful, warm and clear. It was the end of August."
– Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
"The day was beautiful, warm and clear. It was the end of August."
– Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
"This morning, the sun endures past dawn. I realise that it is August: the summer's last stand."
– Sara Baume, A Line Made By Walking
"Closeness lines over time" illustration by "Olivia de Recat"
– Louis Sachar, "Stanley Yelnats' Survival Guide to Camp Green Lake"
[TEXT ID: But don't forget who you really are. And I'm not talking about your so-called real name. All names are made up by someone else, even the one your parents gave you. You know who you really are. When you're alone at night, looking up at the stars, or maybe lying in your bed in total darkness, you know that nameless person inside you. END ID]
"I dream. Sometimes I think that’s the only right thing to do. To dream, to live in the world of dreams."
– Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
"I had tea. I then spent a long time in a bookshop. A quiet evening."
– Virginia Woolf, A Passionate Apprentice: The Early Journals, 1897-1909
This is your reminder to pay attention to the trees and run in the field full of flowers.
Sharing one secret that you will never find happy life but you have to make it. Happiness will come to you but for happy life, you need to make that.
Start normalizing whatever this is.
"How do I stop carrying everything that has ever happened to me?"
– If My Body Could Speak, Book by Blythe Baird
"I wanted to be physically erased and start over again. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be there. I guess I wanted to be nowhere, I wanted to listen to my brain talk inside of nothingness. I wanted to be untouchable and have no need."
– Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration, Book by "David Wojnarowicz"
Grief comes in different waves at different times. It comes when you see something related to that person/thing. Sudden waves of grief hits you while you are driving or just taking a quick shower. You will miss and then grief over that person/thing forever and that's why it's known as the last act of love.
Just me and my longing for the place that doesn't even exists.
"It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart."
– Rainer Maria Rilke
Can't believe it's March already. Like yesterday it was January and we all were making soups at 8pm and reading books at 1am.
"It is said: Love is as strong as Death."
– Mahmoud Darwish, in Almond Blossoms and Beyond (tr. Mohammad Shaheen)