I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.
— Albert Camus
We tell ourselves stories in order to live.
— Joan Didion in The White Album
She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.
— Neil Gaiman
I dream. Sometimes I think that’s the only right thing to do.
— Haruki Murakami
Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
— Anne Sexton
Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.
— Andrea Gibson (via misswallflower)
She was no more than fourteen, but that heart bad been broken, and had destroyed itself, savagely wounded by the outrage that had amazed and horrified her young childish conscience, overwhelmed her soul, pure as an angel’s, with unmerited shame, and torn from her a last cry of despair, unregarded, but defiantly shrieked into the dark night, into the blackness, the cold, the torrents of spring, while the wind howled….
— Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment
