by thecustomhouse

I’m getting that shiftless feeling that takes up more and more space until you give in and get on a train somewhere open and empty of you.

“Though the opinion is unpopular it seems likely enough that bare places, fields too thick with stones to be ploughed, tossing sea-meadows half-way between England and America, suit us better than cities… There is something absolute in us which despises qualification.”

-Virginia Woolf, Jacob’s Room (I’m almost done)