#via

I wanted a metamorphosis, a change to fish, to leviathan, to destroyer. I wanted the earth to open up, to swallow everything in one engulfing yawn. I wanted to see the city buried fathoms deep in the bosom of the sea. I wanted to sit in a cave and read by candlelight. I wanted that eye extinguished so that I might have a chance to know my own body, my own desires. I wanted to be alone for a thousand years in order to reflect on what I had seen and heard - and in order to forget. ↗

— Henry Miller

#candlelight #caves #desires #forget #leviathan

I'm never going to get married." "You're crazy." Buddy brightened. "You'll change your mind." "No. My mind's made up. ↗

— Sylvia Plath

#married #sylvia-plath #the-bella-jar #change

It would be so much easier if I didnt have to make either choice. Picking neither and going back to the way I was just a few months previous would have been so much simpler. But something inside me had changed. There was no going back now. I couldnt live the same without them. ↗

— Keary Taylor

#eve #west #change

Fine by me, Jack. I just have to plug in the machine. The City will have to change its name to Sunny Beach.” “We don’t have a beach.” “Well, you know what I mean …” Conversation on Radio Fake 112.8 MHz In The Shadow of Sadd ↗

— Steen Langstrup

#gta #noir #scandinavian-mysteries #change

Free agency changed the baseball landscape in many ways. It created more opportunities for players, but it also meant increasingly fewer players would spend an entire career playing for one franchise—and that’s especially true for players capable of becoming “legends,” the ones in such demand on the free agent market. ↗

— Tucker Elliot

#baseball-stats #baseball-trivia #free-agency #major-league-baseball #change

I have stitched life into me like a rare organ ↗

— Sylvia Plath

#life #sylvia-plath #death

Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it. ↗

— Sylvia Plath

#depression #sadness #sylvia-plath #the-bell-jar #change

You just hang in there, boy, hang in with that apprenticeship of yours, do you hear me? You are lucky they would even take someone like you. You’re a child of the slums. A ragtag. On top of that, you’re a whining piece of shit. Nobody will ever do anything for you. Do you understand what I’m saying? They’ll let you starve to death, no problem. Nobody is going to cry on your grave.” Poul-Erik’s Mother The Informer by Steen Langstrup ↗

— Steen Langstrup

#mothers #noir-style #scandinavian-mysteries #death

Is this your first case?' This from the ugliest person Winter had ever seen. His face resembled five pounds of meat loaf molded by an arthritic potter. ↗

— Åke Edwardson

#scandinavian-literature #death

Tev bija taisnība, zvaigznes ir tuvu. ↗

— Gundega Repše

#latvian #philosophy #death