Pages from Tony Ray Jones’ Notebooks. Only in England exhibition at the Science Museum Media Space.
12:45 am • 10 February 2014 • 1 note
“-The tree stumps say ‘We are tree stumps torn out of the ground by men, sometimes the wind, we have big tendrils full of earth that drink out of the earth’- Men say ‘We are men, we pull out tree stumps, we make paper bags, we think wise thoughts, we make lunch, we look around, we make a great effort to realize everything is the same’- While the sand says ‘We are the sand, we already know,’”
— Big Sur- Jack Kerouac
12:41 am • 10 February 2014 • 5 notes
“Every time I came to the end of a block and stepped off the goddam curb, I had this feeling that I’d never get to the other side of the street. I thought I’d just go down, down, down, and nobody’d ever see me again. Boy, did it scare me. You can’t imagine. I started sweating like a bastard- my whole shirt underwear and everything. Then I started doing something else. Every time I got to the end of a block I’d make believe I was talking to my brother Allie. I’d say to him, ‘Allie, don’t let me disappear. Allie, don’t let me disappear. Allie, don’t let me disappear. Please Allie.’ And then when I’d reach the other side of the street without disappearing, I’d thank him. Then it would start all over again as soon as I got to the next corner.”
— J.D. Salinger. ‘The Catcher in the Rye’
10:15 pm • 15 January 2014 • 8 notes
“The world is like a ride in an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it you think it’s real because that’s how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills and it’s very brightly coloured and it’s very loud and it’s fun, for a while. Some people have been on the ride for a long time and they begin to question: “Is this real, or is this just a ride?” And other people have remembered, and they come back to us, they say, “Hey, don’t worry, don’t be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride.” And we kill those people.”
— Bill Hicks (via skeletales)
(Source: volturius, via skeletales)
11:30 pm • 10 November 2013 • 127 notes
A bouquet of clumsy words: you know that place between sleep and awake where you’re still dreaming but it’s slowly slipping? I wish we could feel like that more often. I also wish I could click my fingers three times and be transported to anywhere I like. I wish that people didn’t always say ‘just wondering’ when you both know there was a real reason behind them asking. And I wish I could get lost in the stars.
Listen, there’s a hell of a good universe next door, let’s go.
— E.E. Cummings (via skeletales)
(Source: wordsthat-speak, via skeletales)
6:17 pm • 15 July 2013 • 39,467 notes