Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself.
I finally figured out that I’m solitary by nature, but at the same time I know so many people; so many people think they own a piece of me. They shift and move under my skin, like a parade of memories that simply won’t go away. It doesn’t matter where I am, or how alone - I always have such a crowded head.
All stories are about wolves. All worth repeating, that is. Anything else is sentimental drivel…. Think about it. There’s escaping from the wolves, fighting the wolves, capturing the wolves, taming the wolves. Being thrown to the wolves, or throwing others to the wolves so the wolves will eat them instead of you. Running with the wolf pack. Turning into a wolf. Best of all, turning into the head wolf. No other decent stories exist.
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via kateoplis)
I was just remembering a few indelible moments in my adult life that involved a tightly-knit group, bounding forward with joy, whether through the woods at night on foot, or down a blinding, snow-covered slope on boards; in that “whole shot” moment, expanded laterally, I glanced left and right and felt the thrill of a shared experience translated into movement, and further translated, necessarily, into a kind of howling that bound us forever to that moment and to each other.
(Source: etalks, via kateoplis)