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I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet” (via feuille-d-automne)
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I am learning how to compromise the wild dream ideals and the necessary realities without such screaming pain.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, edited by Karen V. Kukil (via litverve)
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