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Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.
Oscar Wilde, ”The Picture of Dorian Gray” [1891] (via fuckyeahoscarwilde)(via fuckyeahoscarwilde)
Posted on June 1, 2012 via Napoleon In Rags with 75 notes
Source: napoleon--in--rags
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I think it’s great for two people to be together. That is a good number. I think, that to keep it alive though, you can’t spend every day together. It wears out the magic, Love means nothing to me if it’s not fortified with fierce, painful longing, brief explosive instances of furious passion and intimacy and then a sad parting for a time. In that way, you can give your life to it and still have a life of your own. I think some couples spend too much time together. They flatten out the potential for experience by constant closeness. Passion builds over time like steam. Let it rage until it’s exhausted and then leave it alone to let it build up again. Why can’t love be insane and distorted? How can it be vital if it has the same threshold as normal day-to-day experience? Why can’t you write burning letters and let your nocturnal self smolder with desire for one who is not there? Why not let the days before you see her be excruciating and ferment in your mind so on the day you go to the airport to pick her up, you’re nearly sick with anticipation? And then when desire shows the first sign of contentment, throw it back it its cage and let it slowly build itself back into a state of starved fury. Then when you are together, it all matters. So that when you look into her eyes, you lose your balance, so that when she touches you, it feels like you have never been touched before. When she says your name, you think it was she who named you. When she has gone, you bury your face in the pillow to smell her hair and you lie awake at night remembering your face in her neck, her breathing and the amazing smell of her skin. Your eyes go wet because you want her so bad and miss her so much. Now that is worth the miles and the time. That matches the inferno of life. Otherwise you poison each other with your presence day after day as you drag each other through the inevitable mundane aspects of your lives. That is the slow death that I see slapped on faces everywhere I go. It’s part of the world’s sadness that’s more empty than cold, poorly lit rooms in cities of the American night.
Henry Rollins (via intiniermoments)(via incenses)
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If you are depressed you are living in the past. If you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace you are living in the present.
Posted on May 26, 2012 via pay attention to me with 8,791 notes
Source: cavum
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We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan -
Every woman is a rebel, and usually in wild revolt against herself.
Oscar Wilde. A Woman of No Importance. (via fuckyeahoscarwilde)(via fuckyeahoscarwilde)
Posted on May 25, 2012 via Look what the cat dragged in! with 186 notes
Source: jc-demento
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Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future
(via fuckyeahoscarwilde)
Posted on May 25, 2012 via the dandelion girl with 63 notes
Source: thdandeliongirl
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Posted on May 23, 2012 via theluckyone with 48 notes
Source: theluckyone-3
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Posted on May 23, 2012 via Rather Random Post's with 130 notes
Source: raraposts
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Posted on May 23, 2012 via iheartmyart ♥ with 1,333 notes
Source: faithistorment.blogspot.com
Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination - Oscar Wilde
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