| — |
- David Foster Wallace, “Good Old Neon” (via atemporarypause) This story is fucking GUT-WRENCHING to read. (via elusive-lucidity) He’s got a lot of those. And, in retrospect, in view of how he ended his life, even the stories that were funny are gut-wrenching to me now. (via stillhidden) |
My whole life I’ve been a fraud. I’m not exaggerating. Pretty much all I’ve ever done all the time is try to create a certain impression of me in other people. Mostly to be liked or admired. It’s a little more complicated than that, maybe. But when you come right down to it it’s to be liked, loved. Admired, approved of, applauded, whatever. You get the idea. I did well in school, but deep down the whole thing’s motive wasn’t to learn or improve myself but just to do well,to get good grades and make sports teams and perform well.
“
If you know yourself, then you’ll not be harmed by what is said about you.
“
| — | Arab Proverb (via delascielo) |

Every night Arya would say their names. ”Ser Gregor,” she’d whisper to her stone pillow. “Dunsen, Polliver, Chiswyck, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Amory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei.” Back in Winterfell, Arya had prayed with her mother in the sept and with her father in the godswood, but there were no gods on the road to Harrenhal, and her names were the only prayer she cared to remember.




