(Source: amberlostrander)
“Alas! Reality is such a crippled whore.
All mortal things are sick and rotten to the core, only the mind, a frail but kingly jewel, gives birth to beauty love and truth.
So why not stay and forever make a home, in the darkness of the only place you never can belong?
In a land, sublime that some call fantasy; our only hope of love…
Or immortality.”
I would rather be ashes than dust
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time
~ Jack London
Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives… and to the “good life”, whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.
—Hunter S Thompson (via corpses-symphony)
(Source: maliceandtherabbit, via corpses-symphony)
(via frankenghouls666)
(Source: clairvoyant---disease, via frankenghouls666)
(Source: thelabyrinthofmymind, via apple-0f-sodom)
D’awww in the old days, when he was goth!
god dayum manson
(Source: thisisntmeimnotmechanical, via apple-0f-sodom)
(Source: t-virus00, via arsenic-moon)
