You can only become truly accomplished at something you love. Don’t make money...– Maya Angelou (via kari-shma)
Short Story Number Four Hundred and Two
She’s outside the 7-11 and she is waiting for him. She’s secretly in love with him and she really hopes that he likes to wear blue clothes. She really loves the idea that they might walk around town wearing the same clothes, the same colors, the same shoes. She likes the idea that people will look at them and think that they are crazy or something.
The things that keep me alive are the things that keep me alone.– Fin Greenall (via human-voices)
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.– Eleanor Roosevelt (via brainshit)
Short Story Number Four Hundred
It was the middle of summer and we were walking around and looking up at all the buildings in the city. We were trying to look through the windows to see if we could spot anything interesting. After a while I started to tell you about my idea of flying up to people’s windows. If I could fly then I would watch and figure out what was going on and I would go from building to building and from...
Always remember, your focus determines your reality.– George Lucas (via thesearepeopleyouknow)
Short Story Number Three Hundred and Ninety Nine
I still really wanted to do something amazing with my life. I was getting old and tired but I still had this secret plan to do something that would be really great. I talk to my friends and they think I’m crazy when I say how I still have this plan to do something amazing with my life. I haven’t figured out exactly what I want to do, but I figure that’s OK. I’m still...
The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in.– W.H. Auden (via libraryland)
Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your...– E.L. Doctorow (via wordpainting)
Short Story Number Three Hundred and Ninety Eight
We only had a week to go before we were going to escape for good. It was funny though because we still couldn’t really believe it. We kept looking at each other to make sure that everything was real. That we really were leaving. We held hands all the time and things passed between our hands that were new. Excitement and hope and some kind of new joy. This was going to be the happy ending...
I thought of myself as a writer for years before I got around to writing...– E. L. Doctorow (via theparisreview)