“”-¿Tú puedes decirme que camino he de tomar?- Pregunto Alicia.
-Eso depende mucho de adonde quieras ir…- Contestó el gato.
-Poco me importa adonde ir- Respondio Alicia.
-Entonces poco importa el camino- Replicó el Gato.”—Jose Julio Suasnavar (via negativo0)
“A friend of mine, who’s a literature professor, […] tells me he finds it profoundly reassuring that while we ordinary mortals are asleep, there exist lit rooms containing anxious, vigilant souls. A terrible responsibility, he says, devolves upon the poet, that requires her never to be fully awake or asleep: at night, wakeful poets buoy humanity to the surface, to consciousness, preventing our slumbering bulk from sinking too far; during the day, these same poets anchor the madding masses to the depths. The world will end, he once told me, when the final poet awake closes her eyes.”—My Poet by Naeem Murr (via leopoldgursky)