SEBASTIAN. So brazen his locks, his hands could only fall on frocks.
SEBASTIAN. So worn his shoes, he could no longer choose.
SEBASTIAN. The bone poked out of his shoulder, his mouth dripped bloody murder.
Oh, Sebastian. You poor boy.
“Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe.” —Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakami (via earlyfrost) (via aliceinborderland) (via revolutionnow) (via fuckyeahradicalquotes) (via charlottecorday) (via keatsandyeatsonyourside)