#som

My eyes are so close together that when I cross my eyes, my irises actually trade places. My skin is so craterous that Neil Armstrong annually rubs my face just to reminisce about his time on the moon. And my nose is so long that my penis is jealous. But enough about how handsome I am. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#jealous #jealousy #moon #neil-armstrong #ugly

this song is for the guy who keeps yelling from the balcony, and it's called 'we hate you, please die. ↗

— Bryan Lee O'Malley

#music #scott-pilgrim #life

There's always someone who cares. Someone whose life would simply stop. You just don't know it yet, or you haven't found them yet. ↗

— Fuyumi Soryo

#mars #someone #life

Emma:“He broke your heart! How can you call it love when he hurt you so badly?” Kellan:“It was love because it was worth it. ↗

— Jay Asher

#life #love #opinion #true #life

I wonder if that’s just how it feels to miss someone so bad – like being stabbed in the gut a little bit, each time you think of them. ↗

— Kate Ellison

#love #missing-someone #life

Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else. ↗

— Judy Garland

#else #first-rate #instead #second-rate #somebody

Fall in love.. that is fine, but just make sure you fall deep enough to stay there forever. ↗

— Ram Mohan

#eternal-love #falling #falling-in-love #forever #forever-love

All my life I have been a poor go-to-sleeper. No matter how great my weariness, the wrench of parting with consciousness is unspeakably repulsive to me. I loathe Somnus, that black-masked headsman binding me to the block; and if in the course of years I have got so used to my nightly ordeal as almost to swagger while the familiar axe is coming out of its great velvet-lined case, initially I had no such comfort or defense: I had nothing - save a door left slightly ajar into Mademoiselle's room. Its vertical line of meek light was something I could cling to, since in absolute darkness my head would swim, just as the soul dissolves in the blackness of sleep. ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#night-terrors #sleep #sleeplessness #somnus #life

In my hands is power. The power to hear or to destroy. To grant life or to cause death. I revere this gift, have honed it over time an art as magnificent and awesome as any painting in the Louvre. I an art, I am science. In all ways that matter, I am God. God must be ruthless and far-sighted. God studies his creations and selects. The best of these creations must be cherished, protected, sustained. Greatness rewards perfection. Yet even the flawed have purpose. A wise God experiment, considers, uses what comes into his hands and forges wonders. Yes, often without mercy, often with a violence the ordinary condemn. We who hold power cannot be detracted by the condemnations of the ordinary, by the petty and pitiful laws of simple man. They are blind, their minds are closed with fear-fear of pain, fear of death. They are too limited to comprehend that death can be conquered. I have nearly done so. If my work was discovered, they, with their foolish laws and attitudes, would damn me. When my work is complete, they will worship me. ↗

— J.D. Robb

#god #art

You ever hear a dog cry, Steve? You know, howling so loud it's almost unbearable?' He nodded. 'I reckon they howl like that because they're so hungry it hurts, and that's what I feel in me every day of my life. I'm so hungry to be somethin' - to be somebody. You hear me?' He did. 'I'm not lyin' down ever. Not for you. Not for anyone.' I ended it. 'I'm hungry, Steve.' Sometimes I think they're the best words I've ever said. 'I'm hungry. ↗

— Markus Zusak

#dog #howl #hungry #life