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I believe in the sun even when its not shining, in love even when I’m alone, and in God even when He is silent.
— ~ Written on a basement wall in Nazi Germany, by a Jewish refugee who was hiding from agents of the Holocaust (via gatekeeper)
(via maluna)
You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book (Lady Chatterley, for instance), or you take a trip, or you talk with Richard, and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death.
— Anais Nin (via reluctantbuddha)
