No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.
—James Joyce (via amiquote)
Il suo fianco era il mio. La sua voce era come abbracciarla.
—Cesare Pavese, Il compagno (via apneadiparole)
What makes my Thinker think is that he thinks not only with his brain, with his knitted brow, his distended nostrils and compressed lips, but with every muscle of his arms, back, and legs, with his clenched fist and gripping toes.
—Auguste Rodin (via 123fakestreet)