Sell it. Retire to Aruba.
—Julie Oringer in How to Breathe Underwater.
But when you walk, it’s different : you no longer feel anything for the other, neither bitter aggression nor gushing fraternity. Merely a neutral availability, taking on colour when another is found in tears. Then through natural compassion the heart opens, dilates spontaneously before the apparent pain, like petals opening to light. And you go to their aid, you long to help with all your heart.
—Frederic Gros, in A Philosophy of Walking.
under-the-volcano said: You could also try, “Everything you do is art.”
Or, “EVERYTHING YOU DO IS ART.”
- Me : How do I flirt online.
- Me : You don't.
- Me : Not even with those emojis.
- Me : Maybe just capitalize everything.
- Me : "HEY YOU I LIKE YOUR FACE."
And don’t place a violet on my grave, it’s the flower of the depressed, and reminds the dead of how love died too young. Place seven ears of green wheat on my coffin and a few red anemones should you find them, otherwise leave the church roses for churches and newlyweds.
—Mahmoud Darwish in Mural.