~ ― F. Scott Fitzgerald (via psych-quotes)
I wonder if somewhere between those ten years after I graduated from high school my middle name changed from Mignon to Malaise.
No doubt very few people understand the purely subjective nature of the phenomenon that we call love, or how it creates, so to speak, a supplementary person, distinct from the person whom the world knows by the same name, a person most of whose constituent elements are derived from ourselves. And so there are very few who can regard as natural the enormous proportions that a person comes to assume in our eyes who is not the same as the person that they see.
~ Marcel Proust. Within a Budding Grove. Trans. C.K Scott Moncrief and Terence Kilmartin. p. 54. (via emmadelosnardos)
On the old photos, she says, I see a stranger staking out my skin. As if an apple could fall too far from the tree. Yet I call her “me,” “my” years of furtively expanding flesh, with almost-certainty. It’s a belief that seems exempt from doubt, as if it were the hinge on which my doubts and questions turn. Still, I may seem the same “I” to you while I’ve already rolled it through the next door. From left to right.
~ Rosmarie Waldrop, from “Conversation 9: On Varieties of Oblivion” (via aphidempire)
I had floundered into a state of hyperreceptivity; a desperate condition in which a fiction writer finds it difficult to ignore even the most nebulous idea-emotion that might arise in the process of creation. For he soon learns that such amorphous projections might well be unexpected gifts from his daydreaming muse that might, when properly perceived, provide exactly the materials needed to keep afloat in the turbulent tides of composition. On the other hand, they might wreck him, drown him in the quick sands of indecision.
~ Ralph Ellison, from the introduction to Invisible Man