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Something strange is happening. My senses, sight, hearing, touch are starting to fail me. This table for example, I can see it and touch it. But my feeling is dried-out, shrunken. It’s the same with everything. Music, smells, faces and voices. Everything seems smaller, greyer, without dignity. I tell myself I have the ability to love, but it’s all been shut up in a locked room. The life I’ve led has limited my life more and more.
by Ingmar Bergman, Scenes From A Marriage (via audrotas)

(Fuente: violentwavesofemotion, vía anuvio)

We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infinitesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future. We have no present. Our consciousness is almost completely preoccupied with memory and expectation. We do not realize that there never was, is, nor will be any other experience than present experience. We are therefore out of touch with reality. We confuse the world as talked about, described, and measured with the world which actually is. We are sick with a fascination for the useful tools of names and numbers, of symbols, signs, conceptions and ideas.
by Alan Watts (via escravidao)

(Fuente: silencedohood, vía anuvio)

We can’t jump off bridges anymore because our iPhones will get ruined. We can’t take skinny dips in the ocean, because there’s no service on the beach and adventures aren’t real unless they’re on Instagram. Technology has doomed the spontaneity of adventure and we’re helping destroy it every time we Google, check-in, and hashtag.
by Jeremy Glass, We Can’t Get Lost Anymore (via skeletongarden)

(Fuente: her0inchic, vía luxx-o)

When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.
by Billy, age 4.  (via fabulousbitch69)

(Fuente: bruisebouquet, vía tuesmonpetitechou)