انقدر از این لوس‌بازی شاملو و آیدا بدم می‌آد که خدا می‌دونه.

"book haul" and it's me and the 30 epubs i downloaded

کاش آمریکایی بودم و شغلم فقط و فقط نویسندگی بود. کتابم توی گودریدز 1 میلیون ریت داشت و امتیازش بالای 4 بود. صبحم بلند می‌شدم دایرکتم رو چک می‌کردم می‌دیدم یه شرکت فیلم‌سازی بهم پیشنهاد ساخت فیلم از روی کتابم رو داده. دیگه مگه آدم از دنیا چی می‌خواد؟

“How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise.”

‏White Noise by Don Delillo

“For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
               So how should I presume?”

missing the time when i used to obsessively read books in less than a day and not worry about a single thing in life

“He looked at me like I was crazy.
Most of my lovers do, and that's partly why they love me, and partly why they leave.”

— Jeanette Winterson