angela !!!

“I was reminded how so-called dreamwalking is really a result of the way in which whatever you are thinking about during the day becomes engraved in your bones, so that after you go to sleep at night you continue your thoughts in your dreams.”
― Yan Lianke, The Day the Sun Died

“Perhaps, then, there is something to his advice that I should cease looking back so much, that I should adopt a more positive outlook and try to make the best of what remains of my day. After all, what can we ever gain in forever looking back and blaming ourselves if our lives have not turned out quite as we had wished?”
― Kazuo Ishiguro, The Remains of the Day

“Human consciousness has grown highly complex. And because of that our pleasures are immense, as are our sadnesses. Our breadth of emotion is the greatest among all living things because of our high level of consciousness. But in the end we will die. Even though we've known such great pleasures in this world, we will die. Trillions of humans have died. Trillions more will probably die.”
― Fuminori Nakamura, Cult X

“So it all moves in the pageant towards the ending, its own ending. Everywhere, imperceptibly or otherwise, things are passing, ending, going. And there will be other summers, other band concerts, but never this one, never again, never as now. Next year I will not be the self of this year now. And that is why I laugh at the transient, the ephemeral; laugh, while clutching, holding, tenderly, like a fool his toy, cracked glass, water through fingers. For all the writing, for all the invention of engines to express & convey & capture life, it is the living of it that is the gimmick. It goes by, and whatever dream you use to dope up the pains and hurts, it goes. Delude yourself about printed islands of permanence. You’ve only got so long to live. You’re getting your dream. Things are working, blind forces, no personal spiritual beneficent ones except your own intelligence and the good will of a few other fools and fellow humans. So hit it while it’s hot. (p. 130)”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath