Hey Jude - The Beatles

Solitude gives birth to the original in us, to beauty unfamiliar and perilous - to poetry. But also, it gives birth to the opposite: to the perverse, the illicit, the absurd.
Death in Venice, Thomas Mann
Why do we crush the ones who love us?


"Unanswered Questions"

#micropoetry #poetsofinstagram #poem #poetry #questions

(Reblogged from haidyzakaria)
When I first met you, I felt a kind of contradiction in you. You’re seeking something, but at the same time, you are running away for all you’re worth.
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Ben Folds - Brick

One always dies too soon—or too late. And yet one’s whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are—your life, and nothing else.
Jean Paul Sartre, No Exit
We must cultivate, all of us, a certain ignorance, a certain blindness, or society will not be tolerable.
J. M. Coetzee, Foe
A novel examines not reality but existence. And existence is not what had occurred, existence is the realm of human possibilities, everything that man can become, everything he’s capable of.
From “The Art of the Novel” by Milan Kundera
Only people who’ve been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I’m as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind T.S. Eliot calls ‘hollow men’. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they’re doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what you don’t want to.
From “Kafka on the Shore” by Haruki Murakami