I don’t exactly know what I mean by that, but I mean it.
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
No matter where i go, i still end up me. What’s missing never changes. The scenery may change, but i’m still the same incomplete person. The same missing elements torture me with a hunger that i can never satisfy. I think that lack itself is as close as i’ll come to defining myself.
Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun
Some people reflect light, some deflect it, you by some miracle, seem to collect it.
From House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski (via splitterherzen)