*Crashes through your wall* WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR LONELY SOUL? *Aggressively points finger* WE STRIVE TOWARDS A LARGER GOAL *Throws arms up towards the sky* OUR LITTLE LIVES DON’T COUNT AT ALL
Her name was Fantine. Remember that name: Fantine. Fall on your knees whenever you pronounce it. She suffered much. And loved you much. Her measure of unhappiness was full as yours of happiness. Such are the distributions of God. He is on high, he sees us all, and he knows what he does in the midst of his great stars. So I am going away, my children. Love each other dearly always. There is scarcely anything else in the world but that: to love one another.
Had she really thought I would not know him? I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.
— The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller (via eve-kendall
I’ve decided I want to be cremated. Not when I die, just whenever. Surprise me.
I am gone quite mad with the knowledge of accepting the overwhelming number of things I can never know, places I can never go, and people I can never be.
Welcome to Night Vale | Ep. 35 Lazy Day