We live together, we act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstance we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand in hand into the arena; they are crucified alone. Embraced, the lovers desperately try to fuse their insulated ecstasies into a single self-transcendence; in vain. By its very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude.
Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception (1954)

(Source: cyberwave)

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clitt:

its 2014 and still no fanfic could top this one

image

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I’ve found that growing up means being honest. About what I want. What I need. What I feel. Who I am.
Epiphany.  (via krook)

(Source: 1missedcallfrommom)

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