I wasn’t just the madwoman in the attic—I was the attic itself. The past was all over me, all under me, all inside me.
—Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel (via fuckyeahliteraryquotes)
I only wanted to suggest to you that self-sacrifice is a passion so overwhelming that beside it even lust and hunger are trifling. It whirls its victim to destruction in the highest affirmation of his personality. No wine is so intoxicating, no love so shattering, no vice so compelling.
—The Razor’s Edge, W. Somerset Maugham (via fuckyeahliteraryquotes)
self-congratulatory nonsense as the famous gather to applaud their seeming greatness | you wonder where the real ones are | what giant cave hides them | as the deathly talentless bow to accolades | as the fools are fooled again | you wonder where the real ones are | if there are real ones. | this self-congratulatory nonsense has lasted decades and with some exceptions | centuries. | this is so dreary is so absolutely pitiless | it churns the gut to powder shackles hope | it makes little things like pulling up a shade or putting on your shoes or walking out on the street | more difficult near damnable | as the famous gather to applaud their seeming greatness | as the fools are fooled again | humanity you sick motherfucker.
So this is hell. I’d never have believed it. You remember all we were told about the torture-chambers, the fire and brimstone, the “burning marl.” Old wives’ tales! There’s no need for red-hot pokers. Hell is other people.
—Garcin from “No Exit” by Jean-Paul Sartre (via wrmiii)