Some people will never know true love and I feel bad for them. They make the mistake of loving someone and telling them all about it. Whenever you bring in another person the whole thing is ruined. All you can do is screw it up from there on. I fall in love with the faces of women who pass me on the street. I imagine how it could be… until the next one passes and I’m in love again. No one gets hurt, no promises are broken. And what of the love? It’s fleeting and intense like it should be. I don’t need the physical act to make it real. That’s like keeping the stuffed animal you won at the carnival. When you get it home, it has no place. I love the sound that comes out of Coltrane’s horn. The sound will never leave me. There will be no messy divorce papers. No screaming matches and acrimony, just endless love. Solipsist by Henry Rollins (via thechocolatebrigade) Wednesday Feb 2 @ 03:12pm 89 notes
reblogged from goldenground
originally posted by thechocolatebrigade


Source: thechocolatebrigade