I think people are often quite unaware of their inner selves, their other selves, their imaginative selves, the selves that aren’t on show in the world. It’s something you grow out of from childhood onwards, losing possession of yourself, really. I think literature is one of the best ways back into that. You are hypnotized as soon as you get into a book that particularly works for you, whether it’s fiction or a poem. You find that your defenses drop, and as soon as that happens, an imaginative reality can take over because you are no longer censoring your own perceptions, your own awareness of the world.
Jeanette Winterson, The Art of Fiction No. 150 (via bookmania)
That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.
F. Scott Fitzgerald (via aletdownsquid)
Taken with instagram
You can be lonely even when you are loved by many people, since you are still not anybody’s one and only.
Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl (via bookmania)
Yup.



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