how do people fucking dare write books this sad I’m so done with this are you kidding me I will never lay my eyes on a piece of literature again if this is what I get

nope, no, done

what books are you guys planning on reading this christmas? I’ve been thinking about anna karenina but ugh I don’t know. I need some inspiration!

I know you read a lot! Do you read any chick-lit books and what are your favorites? :)


very rarely nowadays… i used to love sophie kinsella when i was younger but lately it’s just my fucking god her characters are so. fucking. dumb. like it’s not even funny anymore they have no brain and they are so unrealistic i roll my eyes about a thousand times per page.

and a lot of chick lit books feature some kinda boring ass story with kids/pregnancy or boyfriend/husband drama or getting married and i have no interest in any of that because i do not want to be a mother in the future and if i’ll ever get involved with/marry anyone he has to be a millionaire. 

i like reading about manhattan socialites and billionaires and luxury and money and fashion and 10 carat diamonds and private jets and new york new york new york - so plum sykes, lauren weisberger, jane stanton hitchcock.

(i would be most grateful for any suggestions similar to those!)

apparently ‘goodbye for now’ translates into ‘together forever’ in #Finnish. areyoufuckingkiddingme. yay for autumn and rainy days and chocolate pu’erh tea though!
the best thing about not having to study for university entrance exams anymore - I CAN FINALLY READ ACTUAL BOOKS AGAIN #yay #!!!!! #book #reading #literature #nabokov #vladimirnabokov #laughterinthedark #kameraobskura
"She’s never where she is,” I said. “She’s only inside her head."
- White Oleander

(Source: bobcharley)

"This is how it has always been with me. Give me something good, I’ll destroy it. Love me, I’ll destroy you."
- James Frey, A Million Little Pieces

(Source: iwishihadanocean)

"He suggested I play golf, but finally agreed to give me something that, he said, “would really work”; and going to a cabinet, he produced a vial of violet-blue capsules banded with dark purple at one end, which, he said, had just been placed on the market and were intended not for neurotics whom a draft of water could calm if properly administered, but only for great sleepless artists who had to die for a few hours in order to live for centuries."
- Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

(Source: iwishihadanocean)

"He broke my heart. You merely broke my life."
- Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

(Source: iwishihadanocean)

"I haven’t missed you. In fact, I’ve been revoltingly unfaithful to you."
- Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

(Source: iwishihadanocean)

"Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise - a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames - but still a paradise."
- Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

(Source: iwishihadanocean)


Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.
Age: five thousand three hundred days.
Profession: none, or “starlet”.

Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?
Why are you hiding, darling?
(I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze
I cannot get out, said the starling).

Where are you riding, Dolores Haze?
What make is the magic carpet?
Is a Cream Cougar the present craze?
And where are you parked, my car pet?

Who is your hero, Dolores Haze?
Still one of those blue-capped star-men?
Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays,
And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen!

Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts!
Are you still dancin’, darlin’?
(Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts,
And I, in my corner, snarlin’).

Happy, happy is gnarled McFate
Touring the States with a child wife,
Plowing his Molly in every State
Among the protected wild life.

My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soliel Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?

L’autre soir un air froid d’opera m’alita;
Son fele — bien fol est qui s’y fie!
Il neige, le decor s’ecroule, Lolita!
Lolita, qu’ai-je fait de ta vie?

Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse, I’m dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.

Officer, officer, there they go —
In the rain, where that lighted store is!
And her socks are white, and I love her so,
And her name is Haze, Dolores.

Officer, officer, there they are —
Dolores Haze and her lover!
Whip out your gun and follow that car.
Now tumble out and take cover.

Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Her dream-gray gaze never flinches.
Ninety pounds is all she weighs
With a height of sixty inches.

My car is limping, Dolores Haze,
And the last long lap is the hardest,
And I shall be dumped where the weed decays,
And the rest is rust and stardust.


- Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

(Source: iwishihadanocean)