I have so much I want to tell you, and nowhere to begin.
I bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints, we’d only find yours.
Before I write down one word, I have to have the character in my mind through and through. I must penetrate into the last wrinkle of his soul.
Henrik Ibsen (via amandaonwriting)
The imaginary is not formed in opposition to reality as its denial or compensation; it grows among signs, from book to book, in the interstice of repetitions and commentaries; it is born and takes shape in the interval between books. It is the phenomena of the library.
Michel Foucault (via wordpainting)