Begin Again

The reason to travel: there are inner transitions we can’t properly cement without a change of locations. So many of adult life’s ills can be explained by not having four friends with whom we can gossip and weep living within a two minute radius. We’d probably work a lot less hard if we could be sure of being liked without any worldly achievements to our names. Past the age of 30, it becomes a matter of some surprise if we make a new friend. The most time-consuming arguments are always those sparked by the impatient retort that life is too short to discuss this sort of thing. A decline in a narcissistic desire for self-promotion can easily lead you to be mistaken for boring. http://twitter.com/alaindebotton

earlyfrost: “We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep. It is as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out windows, or drown themselves, or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us are slowly devoured by some disease, or, if we are very fortunate, by time itself. There is just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we have ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning, we hope, more than anything for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so.” — Virginia Woolf (via missworld) (via vwvw)