MIND: Laughing

There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody’s expense but his own.

Moby-Dick // Herman Melville

MIND: Retire

If ever I am independent, I will instantly retire to some solitude; I will see no one, not even you, and there I will live until the horrible disgust I feel at all that is human be somewhat removed by quiet and retirement. My heart is too full of hatred.

// Mary Shelley, from a letter to Marianne Hunt

MIND: Sliced

…I’ve never felt good with the crowd. I never belonged, I still do not belong, but the worst part is I do not even belong with the best ones, the living ones. I seem sliced off forever by some god damn trick, either my imagining or some type of insanity, but even the good ones leave me dangling and I feel like a fool, and I know that I am a fool for I feel what I know…

Screams From The Balcony // Charles Bukowski

MIND: Addictive

Something in you pacifies me.
You’ve always had that power over me – part of you pacifies, another terrifies.
How do I get sick of that? I will never get sick of that.

// Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin