Her body is one long sigh.
Ballpoint Pen/Color Pencil
My hands were restless today.
You cannot save people. You can only love them.
Do you take pride in your hurt? Does it make you seem large and tragic? …Well, think about it. Maybe you’re playing a part on a great stage with only yourself as audience.
The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.
The world, the social world, was unbearably complicated, with two billion voices, and everyone’s thoughts striving in equal importance and everyone’s claims on life as intense, and everyone thinking they were unique, when no one was. One could drown in irrelevance.
Ian McEwan, Atonement (via insomniavore)