"For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist." — Vladimir Nabokov (via deaths-and-entrances)
(Source: silencemadenietzschecry, via man-of-prose)
"Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress." — Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Soft As Snow (But Warm Inside) by My Bloody Valentine
Probably the most perplexing yet heartwarming thing is the fact that there are still people out there who give a damn about me, despite the utterly capricious trainwreck I can be.