“I didn’t know that words grew on trees,” said Milo timidly.
“Where did you think they grew?” shouted the earl irritably. A small crowd began to gather to see the little boy who didn’t know that letters grew on trees.
this fucking book
There was once a boy named Milo who didn’t know what to do with himself — not just sometimes, but always.
When he was in school he longed to be out, and when he was out he longed to be in.
On the way he thought about coming home, and coming home he thought about going.
Wherever he was he wished he were somewhere else, and when he got there he wondered why he’d bothered.
Nothing really interested him — least of all the things that should have.
Norman Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth (via nickbomfy)
Pictures I made for college, (self portrait on top, my roomie on the bottom).
