Boogoo Nights
Robert Frost said, “Strongly spent is synonymous with kept.” He’s right. The only way to keep your life is to actually spend it.
(via shitmyphotoprofsays)
In art, you don’t get to learn something- you get to feel something. That’s why we listen to music. We don’t listen to music to learn that there are people in the world that don’t know who their daddy is. We already know that. But when Freddy Cole sings ‘I Wonder Who My Daddy Is’, you get to feel it. You get to feel what he feels.
Roma (via shitmyphotoprofsays)
Whatever you’re meant to do, do it now. The conditions are always impossible.
Doris Lessing <3 (via mmarla)

disturber-magazine:

French newspaper removes all images in support of photographers

"A visual shock. For the first time in its history, Libération is published without photographs. In their place: a series of empty frames that create a form of silence; an uncomfortable one. It’s noticeable, information is missing, as if we had become a mute newspaper. [A newspaper] without sound, without this little internal music that accompanies sight."

Brigitte Ollier - Libération

Via | bjp-online

rhea137:

Jane Bown     Samuel Beckett      1976
“Consider: the darkening ease, the brightening trouble; the pleasure pleasure because it was, the pain pain because it shall be; the glad acts grown proud, the proud acts growing stubborn; the panting and trembling towards a being gone, a being to come; and the true true no longer, and the false true not yet. And to decide not to smile after all, sitting in the shade, hearing the cicadas, wishing it were night…” Samuel Beckett, “Watt”  1943

rhea137:

Jane Bown     Samuel Beckett      1976

“Consider: the darkening ease, the brightening trouble; the pleasure pleasure because it was, the pain pain because it shall be; the glad acts grown proud, the proud acts growing stubborn; the panting and trembling towards a being gone, a being to come; and the true true no longer, and the false true not yet. And to decide not to smile after all, sitting in the shade, hearing the cicadas, wishing it were night…” Samuel Beckett, “Watt”  1943

I don’t like talking to people I know, but strangers I have no problem with.