restless hearts

2012-01-06T20:50:00.001+08:00

My 2012 resolution would be, Drink more milk.

2011-12-15T22:16:00.000+08:00

2011-12-14T16:48:00.000+08:00

It's just that I don't want to be somebody's crush. If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don't want them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it too.

Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

2011-12-14T16:42:00.002+08:00

2011-12-13T22:59:00.001+08:00

You are my north star when I'm feeling blue.

2011-12-13T22:24:00.000+08:00

Some things can only be seen in the shadows.

Carlos Ruiz Zafon, The Shadow of The Wind

2011-12-12T21:41:00.002+08:00

With one glance he had got himself trapped in the brown fundament of her eyes, he was in danger of sinking, as if into a soft, brown swamp, and he had to close his own eyes for a second to get out of it.

Patrick Süskind, The Pigeon

2011-12-12T21:36:00.001+08:00

Love is an untamed force. When we try to control it, it destroys us. When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us. When we try to understand it, it leaves us feeling lost and confused.

Paulo Coelho, The Zahir

2011-12-11T15:37:00.001+08:00

2011-12-11T15:13:00.000+08:00

"The feelings that hurt the most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd: the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are. I don’t know if these feelings are a slow madness born of disconsolation or if they’re reminiscences of some other world in which we’ve lived—jumbled, criss-crossing remembrances, like things seen in dreams, absurd in the form they come to us but not in their origin, if we knew what it was. I know these thoughts of the emotion ache bitterly in the soul. Our inability to conceive of anything they could correspond to, the impossibility of finding a substitute for what they embrace in our imagination. But what remains from feeling all this is an inevitable disaffection with life and all its gestures, a foretasted weariness of all desires in all their manifestations, a generic distaste for all feelings. In these times of acute grief, it is impossible - even in dreams - to be a lover, to be a hero, to be happy. All of this is empty, even in our idea of what it is. Life is hollow, the soul hollow, the world hollow. All gods die a death greater than death. All is emptier than the void. All is a chaos of things that are nothing. And in the bottom of my soul, as the only reality of this moment - there’s an intense and invisible grief, a sadness like the sound of someone crying in their room. In these random impressions, and with no desire to be other than random, I indifferently narrate my fact-less autobiography, my lifeless history. These are my confessions, and if in them I say nothing, it’s because I have nothing to say."

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

2011-12-11T15:08:00.002+08:00

I once had a thousand desires, but in my one desire to know you, all else melted away.

Rumi

2011-12-11T15:07:00.001+08:00

2011-12-11T15:04:00.000+08:00

She wondered how the moon, two hundred and thirty-nine thousand miles above the roof could affect her as profoundly as it did. Being four times larger than the moon, the earth appeared to dominate. Caught in the earth's gravitational web, the moon moved around the earth and could never get away. Yet, as any half-awake materialist well knows, that which you hold holds you. Neither the earth could escape the moon. The moon conducts our orchestra of waters, it is keeper at the hive of blood.

2011-12-11T14:59:00.002+08:00

I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it - to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once.

Haruki Murakami

2011-12-11T14:57:00.001+08:00