Thom on Dead Air Space, radiohead.com, August 23rd 2005
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I think about these in particular written words of Sylvia Plath's below a lot recently:
“I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love’s not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time.”
— via The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
I have so much love for people that I feel it takes over me in uncontrollable outbursts. Like a raging wave crashing repetitively against the hazy shore. How I wish for it to one day to wash away all the broken parts of me into one big beautiful piece as if it were brought out by sea to land shaped like a fragile, shell of my heart.
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“You can kill the prophet, but you can't kill the god.
Your chance to warn the Earth has come and gone.
We are coming.
We are hungry.
We are here.”
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Releasing news of a River Song spin-off as an April Fools joke as soon as the clocks hit midnight is evil. 😭😭😭
I’m so glad I saw it was a joke first. I might have gotten my hopes up.
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Behind every man now alive stand thirty ghosts, for that is the ratio by which the dead outnumber the living.
Arthur C. Clarke, 2001: A Space Odyssey
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