Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.
—“The Velveteen Rabbit” by Margery Williams (via julie911)
(via seasonalchange)
(Source: retainwonderland, via dreaming-and-wishing)
The way to write is to throw your body at the mark when your arrows are spent.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (via deadwriters)
Seeing empty shells of people walking around monotonously is always disconcerting, even off-putting. It was such a reason that everyone strayed away from Jack, creating a meter radius around him that went all but unnoticed to Jack himself. He was tall, but so empty that it seemed as if the slightest breeze would send him flying into the air with only his outline in the clouds to attest to his existence. They told him that it wasn’t worth it, to continue like this, but he only heard the first part and had no reason not to believe it too. He didn’t have a single person to warn him so he went out and found a surgeon willing to perform such a task. There on the eve of the coming year, the surgeon vacuumed his lungs right out of his chest and laid them along his arm on the operating table. Then, much to Jack’s dismay, his heart did not slow or turn blue, but rather continued at its steady pace, proving to him once again that his existence was cheating the very life he so desperately tried to flee from. That was that and that’s all there was to it.
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