Normality is a paved road: It's comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it. -Vincent van Gogh

In cases such as these I’d like a hand
Don’t wake me up without a master plan
With silence I’m becoming fragile
Don’t you understand?
When things that once were beautiful
Are bland

And when I feel like I can feel once again
Let me stay awhile
Soak it in awhile
If we can hold on we can fix what is wrong
Buy a little time
For this head of mine
Haven for us

In truth there is no better place to be
Than falling out of darkness still to see

Without a premonition
Could you tell me where we stand?
I’d hate to lose this light
Before we land

And when I feel like I can feel once again
Let me stay awhile
Soak it in awhile
If we can hold on we can fix what is wrong
Buy a little time
For this head of mine
Haven for us

Before we let euphoria
Convince us we are free
Remind us how we used to feel
Before when life was real

And when I feel like I can feel once again
Let me stay awhile
Soak it in awhile
If we can hold on we can fix what is wrong
Buy a little time
For this head of mine
Haven for us

The Delgados - The Light Before We Land

I never saw her in the daytime. We seemed to live by night. What was left of the day went away like a pack of cigarettes you smoked. I didn’t know where she lived. I never followed her. All I ever had to go on was a place and time to see her again. I don’t know what we were waiting for. Maybe we thought the world would end. Maybe we thought it was a dream and we’d wake up with a hangover in Niagara Falls. I wired Whit but I didn’t tell him. ‘I’m in Acapulco,’ I said. ‘I wish you were here.’ And every night I went to meet her. How did I know she’d ever show up? I didn’t. What stopped her from taking a boat to Chile or Guatemala? Nothing. How big a chump can you get to be? I was finding out. And then she’d come along like school was out, and everything else was just a stone which sailed at the sea.

Out of the Past (1947)


 You wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone
You wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone
The worst that being an artist could do to you would be that it would make you slightly unhappy constantly.

J.D. Salinger, De Daumier-Smith’s Blue Period (via molllyw0bbles)

I don’t care if it’s a sad good-bye or a bad good-bye, but when I leave a place I like to know I’m leaving it. If you don’t, you feel even worse.

JD Salinger (via kushandwizdom)