“The wild regrets and the bloody sweats, none knew so well as I; for he who lives more lives than one, more deaths than one must die.”
— Oscar Wilde.
(Source: stranger-to-this-century, via doctorwho)
“The wild regrets and the bloody sweats, none knew so well as I; for he who lives more lives than one, more deaths than one must die.”
— Oscar Wilde.
(Source: stranger-to-this-century, via doctorwho)
— Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak
“Woody is just Woody. Thousands of people do not know he has any other name. He is just a voice and a guitar. He sings the songs of a people and I suspect that he is, in a way, that people. Harsh voiced and nasal, his guitar hanging like a tire iron on a rusty rim, there is nothing sweet about Woody, and there is nothing sweet about the songs he sings. But there is something more important for those who still listen. There is the will of a people to endure and fight against oppression. I think we call this the American spirit.”
-John Steinbeck
— Woody Guthrie
I’ve nothing else to bring, you know,
So I keep bringing these-
Just as the night keeps fetching stars
To our familiar eyes.
Maybe we shouldn’t mind them
Unless they didn’t come-
Then maybe it would puzzle us
To find our way home.
by Emily Dickinson
— Cassandra Austen, writing of her grief at the death of her sister and most inseparable friend, Jane Austen.