"In the seventeenth century, the French philosopher Blaise Pascal looked up at the night sky and then looked down at a mite, picturing "legs with joints, veins in its legs, blood in the veins, humors in the blood, drops in the humors, vapors in the drops," and onward and downward to the atoms. "The eternal silence of these infinite spaces fills me with dread," he wrote. He meant two infinite spaces, which he called the two infinites of science, one above and around him, the other below and inside him. Of the two infinites, the space that frightened him more was the space that he could not begin to see, the stardust of atoms that made up his very thoughts and fears and moved the fingers around his pen. “Anyone who considers himself in this way will be terrified at himself.” —from “Time, Love, Memory: A Great Biologist and His Quest for the Origins of Behavior” by Jonathan Weiner

I believe I am choosing something now
not to suffer uselessly yet still to feel.

- Adrienne Rich, from The Dream Of A Common Language (via violentwavesofemotion)

In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out.

- Kafka, Franz. Letters To Milena. (via wordsnquotes)

We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.

- Fyodor Dostoyevsky (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it — to be fed so much love I couldn’t take any more. Just once.

- Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via introspectivepoet)


How odd, I can have all this inside me
and to you it’s just words.

- David Foster Wallace, The Pale King (via kushtrimthaqi)