26 September, 1880 Leo Tolstoy In His Letter To Nikolai Strakhov

need more “guish” words. anguish. extinguish. languish. great for when a character is bleeding out on the floor

I'm afraid that I will never get over the sheer genius of translating 'The Importance of Being Earnest' to Czech as 'Jak je důležité míti Filipa'

a reminder for the next time a man calls you hot and you think that shit's romantic:

Dostoevsky once said "She tortures me, tortures me with her love... in the past it was only that infernal body of her's that tortured me, but now I've taken all her soul into my soul and through her I've become a man"

and Kafka once said "in a way, you are poetry material; you are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality"

Not to make any sense but Charlie from TPOBAW would listen to Alex G if he was living rn.

Obsessed with the characters who stay light hearted and joyous but who have stolen it from the darkness. There is blood under their fingernails — there is pain under their eyes — there is hurt in their timeline and they have felt every blow. But they have refused to let it take their joy, their sun, their kindness, their heart. This. This is mine. This is the thing no one gets to touch. The people who are unbeatable simply because they will always look up from the ground with blood on their lip and a light in their eyes. And nothing can ever cut out the light in their chest. Nothing can touch their rebellious, boundless belief that the universe has a sense of humor. I stay silly, I stay open, I stay alive and alive and I lived when the whole world said otherwise. the dandelion in the pavement. The vine on the wall. I lived and I loved the inherent brokenness of a once whole thing and it was me, I was the thing that is whole no longer. I gave flowers to the darkness. I gave my soul to the light. 

akhira

i think we all just need to feel listened to and cared about and possibly to get laid more

Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

Franz Kafka, the metamorphosis / Jane Austen