not killing myself is a personal achievement but you cant really brag about that at dinner parties
Someone once asked me, ‘tell me all the things that no one knows about you’. I sat there, holding a cigarette between two aching fingers, my lungs full to bursting with the taste he left in my mouth when he handed me the first one three years ago. I sped through the inventory of my memory for the…
He’s so damned nice and he’s so awful. He’s my sort of thing.
What do I bring him? Lips that have lost the note of joy, eyes that are blinded by tears, chill hands and icy heart. I bring him nothing.
— Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan (via talesofpassingtime)
When you compare the sorrows of real life to the pleasures of the imaginary one, you will never want to live again, only to dream forever.
— Alexandre Dumas, from The Count of Monte Cristo (Penguin Classics, 2003, first published in 1845)