“… sometimes you have something you need to say but you can’t, because the words won’t come out or you get scared or you feel stupid. So, if you could write a song and sing it, then you could say what you need to say and it would be beautiful and people would listen and you wouldn’t make a complete idiot out of yourself. But all of us can’t be songwriters, so some of us will never be able to say what we’re thinking or what we want other people to know we’re thinking, so we’ll never be able to get the chance to make things right again…”—Rory on Gilmore Girls
“I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will.”—Henry David Thoreau
“Two years he walks the earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road. Escaped from Atlanta. Thou shalt not return, ‘cause “the West is the best.” And now after two rambling years comes the final and greatest adventure. The climactic battle to kill the false being within and victoriously conclude the spiritual pilgrimage. Ten days and nights of freight trains and hitchhiking bring him to the Great White North. No longer to be poisoned by civilization he flees, and walks alone upon the land to become lost in the wild”—Into The Wild
“I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day and whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departed forever — that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections of the first days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the evil, then the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has not that rude hand rent away some dear connection? And why should I describe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at length arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not banished.”—Frankenstein — Mary Shelley
Wayne Westerberg:Alaska, Alaska? Or city Alaska? Because they do have markets in Alaska. The city of Alaska. Not in Alaska. In the city of Alaska, they have markets.
Christopher McCandless:No, man. Alaska, Alaska. I'm gonna be all the way out there, all the way fucking out there. Just on my own. You know, no fucking watch, no map, no axe, no nothing. No nothing. Just be out there. Just be out there in it. You know, big mountains, rivers, sky, game. Just be out there in it, you know? In the wild.
Wayne Westerberg:In the wild.
Christopher McCandless:Just wild!
Wayne Westerberg:Yeah. What are you doing when we're there? Now you're in the wild, what are we doing?
Christopher McCandless:You're just living, man. You're just there, in that moment, in that special place and time. Maybe when I get back, I can write a book about my travels.
Wayne Westerberg:Yeah. Why not?
Christopher McCandless:You know, about getting out of this sick society. Society!
Wayne Westerberg:[coughs] Society! Society!
Christopher McCandless:Society, man! You know, society! Cause, you know what I don't understand? I don't understand why people, why every fucking person is so bad to each other so fucking often. It doesn't make sense to me. Judgment. Control. All that, the whole spectrum. Well, it just...
Wayne Westerberg:What "people" we talking about?
Christopher McCandless:You know, parents, hypocrites, politicians, pricks.
Wayne Westerberg:[taps Chris' head] This is a mistake. It's a mistake to get too deep into all that kind of stuff. Alex, you're a hell of a young guy, a hell of a young guy. But I promise you this. You're a young guy! Can't be juggling blood and fire all the time!
“Well, if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair,
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline,
Remember me to one who lives there.
She once was a true love of mine.
Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm,
When the rivers freeze and summer ends,
Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm,
To keep her from the howlin’ winds.
Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
If it rolls and flows all down her breast.
Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
That’s the way I remember her best.
I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all.
Many times I’ve often prayed
In the darkness of my night,
In the brightness of my day.”—Girl From The North Country — Bob Dylan
“And it starts…
Sometime around midnight
Or at least that’s when
You lose yourself
For a minute or two
As you stand…
Under the barlights
And the band plays some song
About forgetting yourself for a while
And the piano’s this melancholy soundcheck
To her smile
And that white dress she’s wearing
You haven’t seen her
For a while
But you know…
That she’s watching
She’s laughing, she’s turning
She’s holding her tonic like a crux
The room suddenly spinning
She walks up and asks how you are
So you can smell her perfume
You can see her lying naked in your arms
And so there’s a change…
In your emotions
And all of these memories come rushing
Like feral waves to your mind
Of the curl of your bodies
Like two perfect circles entwined
And you feel hopeless, and homeless
And lost in the haze
Of the wine
And she leaves…
With someone you don’t know
But she makes sure you saw her
She looks right at you and bolts
As she walks out the door
Your blood boiling
Your stomach in ropes
And when your friends say what is it
You look like you’ve seen a ghost
And you walk…
Under the streetlights
And you’re too drunk to notice
That everyone is staring at you
And you so care what you look like
The world is falling
You just have to see her
And you know that she’ll break you in two”—Sometime Around Midnight — The Airborne Toxic Event
Try as he might he’s unable to speak
He grabs her by the hair, he strokes her on the cheek
The bed is unmade like everything is
Dark little heaven at the top of the stairs
Take me like that, ruin it all
Then build it again by the light in the hall
He drops to his knees says please my love, please
I’ll kill who you hate, take off that dress, you won’t freeze
One more night, that was a good one
One more night, i dreamed it was a good one
One more, one more night, that was a good one
One more night, the end should be a good one
A good one
He starts with her back cause that’s what he sees
When she’s breaking his heart she still fucks like a tease
Release to the sky, look him straight in the eye
And tell him that now, that you wish he would die
You’ll never touch him again so get what you can
Leaving him empty just because he’s a man
So good when it ends, they’ll never be friends
One more night, that’s all they can spend
”—One More Night (Your Ex-Lover Is Remains Dead) — Stars