just me.. scribbling on the wall..Ask me anything Send me your Scribbles and Cave Paintings
The voice returns like the insistent out-of-tune of a broken violin on an August afternoon:
“I am always sure that you understand my feelings, always sure that you feel, sure that across the gulf you reach your hand.
You are invulnerable, you have no Achilles’ heel. You will go on, and when you have prevailed you can say: at this point many a one have failed. T. S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (via anexquisitenymph)