But I guess ultimately what scares me about marriage is where do you find this person? You know a lot of times, most successful relationships, people meet through work, school, mutual friends. But what’s most interesting to me is when people just meet in life, just randomly. You know, I have a friend, he got married, I asked him like “Hey, uh, where’d you meet your wife?” He was like “I was leaving Bed, Bath & Beyond. I was looking for my car - I drive a gray Prius. I saw a different gray Prius, I thought it was mine, I walked up to it, I realized I had the wrong car, but I bumped into Carol, we started talking, that was that”. That’s unbelievable. Think about all the random factors that had to come together to make this one moment possible - this one moment that changed these two people’s entire lives: First off, this guy has to live in this particular town. Then he has to get a gray Prius. Then he has to need to go to Bed, Bath & Beyond. Then he has to go to that particular Bed, Bath & Beyond. Then there has to be another guy who also lives in town, also drives a gray Prius, also needs to go to Bed, Bath & Beyond, also goes to that particular Bed, Bath & Beyond at around the same time. Then they have to both park somewhat near each other, my friend has to leave before the other guy leaves, see the wrong Prius, think it’s his, walk up to it. Then the woman, Carol, needs to be near the wrong gray Prius for a million other random reasons. They bump into each other, they start talking, their entire lives are changed. That’s the most amazing and terrifying thing about life. It is, cause the amazing thing is that at any moment, any one of us can have that moment that totally changes our lives. You could be leaving the show tonight, bump into someone… it could change your life. You don’t know, that could happen. The terrifying thing is… what if we’re all supposed to be at Bed Bath & Beyond right now?
Aziz Ansari, Buried Alive (via isaaclahye)

high-blogging:

fucking ellen

Billy Collins

literarystarbucks:

Billy Collins goes up to the counter and orders a coffee, black, with cream.
It is warm, like childhood, like love, like losing yourself in your art.
He holds the cup in his hands and stares across the room.
There is a light on in the corner -
Underneath it is a woman, reading a book.
It is poetry. She is beautiful.
Why do we write? Because we want to get back to that Starbucks,
In that corner, with that cup of coffee.
We want to be young again, and drinking coffee.
"Drink coffee with me," and she does.
She is beautiful. It is poetry.
slaughterhouse90210:

"She stands and moves within the invisible pentacle of her own virginity. She is an unbroken egg: she is a sealed vessel; she has inside her a magic space the entrance to which is shut tight with a plug of membrane; she is a closed system; she does not know how to shiver." — Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber 

slaughterhouse90210:

"She stands and moves within the invisible pentacle of her own virginity. She is an unbroken egg: she is a sealed vessel; she has inside her a magic space the entrance to which is shut tight with a plug of membrane; she is a closed system; she does not know how to shiver."
— Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber 

the-final-sentence:

Final sentences:

African hut or whatever, I hope Holly has, too.

from Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Then starting home, he walked toward the trees, and under them, leaving behind him the big sky, the whisper of wind voices in the wind-bent wheat.

from In Cold Blood 

Here is what I had written him: Hello pop hope you are well I am and I am lurning to pedal my plain so fast I will soon be in the sky so keep your eyes open and yes I love you Buddy.

from One Christmas

She beckoned to him, shining and silver, and he knew he must go: unafraid, not hesitating, he paused only at the garden’s edge where, as though he’d forgotten something, he stopped and looked back at the bloomless, descending blue, at the boy he had left behind.

from Other Voices, Other Rooms

We watched until he turned a bend at the corner, innocent of the menace he carried, the chrysanthemums that burned, that growled and roared against a greenly lowering dusk.

from The Thanksgiving Visitor

(via Remembering - Story of the Day)
You’ve got to remember that
it is not an achievement
to self-destruct
and that comparing yourself
or your life
to other people
with similar problems
is never going to give you
an accurate picture
or enable you
to be proud
of the fact
you woke up this morning
and got breakfast
and you didn’t hurt yourself last night.
N.J., When bad feels like good. (via painstained-letters)

The Baby-Sitters Club (1995)