one long longing.

nicole. london. careful about the things she loves.

“I want - I want - I want - was all that she could think about - but just what this real want was she did not know.”

— The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers (via thechocolatebrigade)

“Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as a means of escape.”

— bell hooks, All About Love: New Visions (via suzywire)

(via goldenfools)

“When women are in positions of power, and they’re featured in a women’s magazine like Vogue … they tend to be incredibly unfairly criticized. It’s an incredibly old-fashioned approach. Just because you’re in a position of power, and you look good and you enjoy fashion — does that mean you’re an idiot, or that it’s not seemly to be in a woman’s magazine? If a man is in GQ, they don’t get the same kind of criticism.”

— Anna Wintour, The Wall Street Journal (via nicoleloher)

(Source: nicoleloher)

“I don’t want to live — I want to love first, and live incidentally.”

— Zelda Fitzgerald (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: blog.la-moxie.com, via thatkindofwoman)

“I began to draw an invisible boundary between myself and other people. No matter who I was dealing with. I maintained a set distance, carefully monitoring the person’s attitude so that they wouldn’t get any closer. I didn’t easily swallow what other people told me. My only passions were books and music.”

— Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami (via thechocolatebrigade)

“Maybe sadness was a kind of hunger, she thought. Maybe the two went together.”

— The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood (via backupnotebook)

(Source: anovel-idea, via mildmodern-girl)

“If you’re old and happy, I can imagine that you’ll maybe smile to yourself when you hear me going, ‘He broke my heart’. You’ll remember someone who broke your heart and you’ll think to yourself, “Oh, yes, I remember how that feels”. But you can’t, you smug bastard. Oh, you might remember feeling sort of pleasantly sad. You might remember listening to music and eating chocolates in your room, or walking along the Embankment on your own, wrapped up in a winter coat and feeling lonely and brave. But can you remember how with every mouthful of food it felt like you were biting into your own stomach? Can you remember the taste of vodka as it came back up and into the toilet bowl? Can you remember dreaming, every night, that he was talking to you gently and touching you, so that every morning when you woke up you had to go through it all over again? Can you remember standing too close to the edge of an Underground platform? No? Well, fucking shut up then. Stick your smile up your saggy old arse.”

— Nick Hornby (via atomos)

(via flourhoneyandmilk)

“She was not used to being cruel, but he had taught her how.”

— Janet Fitch (Paint It Black)

(Source: katelizabeth, via plasticinehouse)

“You will want to call him. You will go as far as holding the phone in your hand, imagine telling him unimaginable things like, ‘you are always ticking inside of me and I dream of you more often than I don’t. My body is a dead language and you pronounce each word perfectly.’”

— Excerpt from The Unrequited Love Poem by Sierra DeMulder (via unbaptised)

(Source: breannapeck, via partythighs)

“It’s everybody, I mean. Everything everybody does is so—I don’t know—not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless and—sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you’re conforming just as much as everybody else, only in a different way.” She stopped. She shook her head briefly, her face quite white, and for just a fractional moment she felt her forehead with her hand—less, it seemed, to find out whether she was perspiring than to check to see, as if she were her own parent, whether she had a fever. “I feel so funny,” she said. “I think I’m going crazy. Maybe I’m already crazy.”

— Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger (via thechocolatebrigade)

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