I wasn’t actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.
|—||F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via fitzgeraldquotes)|
She did not plan; she merely let herself go, and the overwhelming life in her did the rest. It is only when youth is gone and experience has given us a sort of cheap courage that most of us realize how simple such things are.
|—||F. Scott Fitzgerald, First Blood (via fitzgeraldquotes)|
Can’t you possibly be just a little bit glad that we are alive and that all the year that’s coming we can be together and work and love and get some peace for all the things we’ve paid so much for learning? Stop looking for solace: there isn’t any.
|—||Zelda to Scott, 1931 (via fitzgeraldquotes)|
When something bothered me, I didn’t talk with anyone about it. I thought it over all by myself, came to a conclusion, and took action alone. Not that I really felt lonely. I thought that’s just the way things are. Human beings, in the final analysis, have to survive on their own.
|—||Sputnik Sweetheart (Haruki Murakami)|
People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don’t reach my lips.
|—||Gone Girl (Gillian Flynn)|
I’m lonely. What kind of loneliness? Every kind. I feel disconnected. Abandoned. As always. Repetition. So what, my love? So what? At first, I just wanted to run away. Now I have no where else to run to, nothing to run from. I don’t belong anywhere, I don’t want to go anywhere, I just want to be happy.
Daul Kim (via wordsthat-speak)
Just for future reference, don’t use words like “love” anymore. It’s a very sensitive word and it wears out quickly. Romeo barely says it, but John Hinckley filled up a whole journal with it. To put it into your terms, it’s a currency that’s easily devalued. Pretty soon you’re saying it whenever you hang up the phone or whenever you leave. It turns into an apology. Then it’s an excuse. Some assholes want it to be a bulletproof vest: don’t hate me; I love you. But mostly it just means—more. More, more—give me something more. A couple of years from now, when you’re on your own completely, if you really fall in love, if it really comes to that—and I pity you if it does—you have to look right down into the black of her eyes, right down into the emptiness in there and feel everything, absolutely everything she needs and you have to be willing to drown in it, Kevin. You’d have to want to be crushed, buried alive. Because that’s what real love feels like—choking. They used to bury some women in their wedding dresses, you know. I thought it was because all those husbands were too cheap to spring for another gown, but now it makes sense: love is your first foot in the grave. That’s why the second most abused word is “forever”.
Hot Plastic (Peter Craig)