#l

Not knowing how he lost himself, or how he recovered himself, he may never feel certain of not losing himself again. ↗

— Charles Dickens

#psychology

With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed. ↗

— Ernest Hemingway

#ernest-hemingway #fall #seasons #spring #life

We'll always have Paris. ↗

— Howard Koch

#paris #paris

You're miserable, edgy and tired. You're in the perfect mood for journalism. ↗

— Warren Ellis

#journalism #miserable #mood #perfect #tired

My dad always said that when you're struggling with something, look at all the people around you and realize that every single person you see is struggling with something, and to them, it's just hard as what you're going through ↗

— Nicholas Sparks

#struggle

Then, his struggles stopped. His eyes stared at me, stunned, and his lips parted, almost into a smile, albeit a grisly and pained one. "That’s what I was supposed to say..." he gasped out. Those were his last words. ↗

— Richelle Mead

#vampire-academy #struggle

And sometimes I believe your relentless analysis of June leaves something out, which is your feeling for her beyond knowledge, or in spite of knowledge. I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon. What will you do after you have revealed all there is to know about June? Truth. What ferocity in your quest of it. You destroy and you suffer. In some strange way I am not with you, I am against you. We are destined to hold two truths. I love you and I fight you. And you, the same. We will be stronger for it, each of us, stronger with our love and our hate. When you caricature and nail down and tear apart, I hate you. I want to answer you, not with weak or stupid poetry but with a wonder as strong as your reality. I want to fight your surgical knife with all the occult and magical forces of the world. ↗

— Anaïs Nin

#love #magic #science #love

How frail the human heart must be -- a mirrored pool of thought. ↗

— Sylvia Plath

#human-heart #thought #journalism

I think I am mad sometimes. ↗

— Sylvia Plath

#journalism

Journalism largely consists in saying "Lord Jones is dead" to people who never knew Lord Jones was alive. ↗

— G.K. Chesterton

#journalism