Sorry For The Alyosha Posting It Will Happen Again

obsessed where stories where it is like. the mistakes are unfixable and the worst thing that could happen happened and nothing can go back to how it was. but there was still love in this and love will continue after this and love endures always.

― Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights

Fellini’s Casanova (1976)

Anaïs Nin, from Linotte: The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1914-1920

Dostoevsky is one of those writers who, after showing you your fragmental vileness and natural disfigurement, teach you why you need to learn to love yourself.

wouldn’t it be nice if we were older then we wouldn’t have to wait so long?and wouldn’t it be nice to live together in the kind of world where we belong? you know it’s gonna make it that much better, when we can say goodnight and stay together. wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up in the morning when the day is new? and after having spent the day together hold each other close the whole night through?

Rainer Maria Rilke, "The Prodigal Son." The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke (translated by Stephen Mitchell)

What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.

— J.D. Salinger.

imagine if every chapter in a real book ended with an author's note