There’s no such thing as an unwritten life; only a badly written one.

—Stephen Bloom, “The Brothers Bloom”

You’d think the dreamers find the dreamers, and the realists find the realists. But more often than not, the opposite is true. You see, the dreamers need the realists to keep them from soaring too close to the sun. And the realists, well without the dreamers, they might not ever get off the ground

—Cam, Modern Family. (via beat-on-repeat)

To infinity and beyond.

Calvin: If people sat outside and looked at the stars each night, I'll bet they'd live a lot differently.
Hobbes: How so?
Calvin: Well, when you look into infinity, you realize that there are more important things than what people do all day.

People are taking the piss out of you everyday. They butt into your life, take a cheap shot at you and then disappear. They leer at you from tall buildings and make you feel small. They make flippant comments from buses that imply you’re not sexy enough and that all the fun is happening somewhere else. They are on TV making your girlfriend feel inadequate. They have access to the most sophisticated technology the world has ever seen and they bully you with it. They are The Advertisers and they are laughing at you.

You, however, are forbidden to touch them. Trademarks, intellectual property rights and copyright law mean advertisers can say what they like wherever they like with total impunity.

Fuck that. Any advert in a public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It’s yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. You can do whatever you like with it. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.

You owe the companies nothing. Less than nothing, you especially don’t owe them any courtesy. They owe you. They have re-arranged the world to put themselves in front of you. They never asked for your permission, don’t even start asking for theirs.

—

Banksy

Make art, not ads. (via portroids, zaschell) (via loveyourchaos) (via ryannjoy)

So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.

—Initiation by Sylvia Plath (via letsbegracious)

(via ghostofmydreams)

Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

—from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot

(via thekingdomofwelcomeaddiction)

And he asked for her whole life as simply as he’d ask for a date. And she promised away her whole life as simply as she’d offer a hand in greeting or farewell.

— Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

People always think that happiness is a faraway thing,” thought Francie, “something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains - a cup of strong hot coffee when you’re blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you’re alone - just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness.

—Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (via libraries)

You can have a crush on someone right off the bat. You can want to jump their bones immediately. You could probably decide they were funny within an hour. But love? Forget it. Love takes history, shared adventures, drunk dials at 2 a.m., visits to the emergency room, a couple of road trips, high-fives after purchasing a couch and the resulting argument when you realize it won’t fit through the front door. Love, my poor stupid man, takes time.

—Jeanine Fritz, Colorado Daily

NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY