(Source: nevver, via yogurtdale)
“
Because I only talk a good game, I only dream in my head, but do you know what I want in reality? That you all go to hell, that’s what! I want peace. I’d sell the whole world for a kopeck this minute, just not to be bothered. Shall the world go to hell, or shall I not have my tea? I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground (via morphinith)
(via teachingliteracy)
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‘He was just a word for me. I did not see the man in the name any more than you do. Do you see him? Do you see the story? Do you see anything? It seems to me I am trying to tell you a dream—making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream–sensation, that commingling of absurdity, surprise, and bewilderment in a tremor of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is of the very essence of dreams….’
He was silent for a while.
‘…No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life–sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence—that which makes its truth, its meaning—its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream—alone….’
(via marigold1900)
