Once upon a time, there was a boy. He lived in a village that no longer exists,...– Nicole Krauss, History of Love
Because the moon feels loved, she lets our eyes follow her across the field,...– Anne Michaels, from: “Skin Divers” (via pattiocleavis)
I once had a thousand desires, But in my one desire to know you all else...– Rumi (via loveyourchaos)
There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.– Leonard Cohen (via lucystardust)
She said she knew she was able to fly because when she came down she always had...– J.D. Salinger, Franny & Zooey (via moonandmoon)
moonandmoon: n. the intense heat on the skin of a sleeping person, a radioactive byproduct of an idle mind humming with secret delusions which then vaporize when plunged into the cooling bath of reality, thus preventing a meltdown that could endanger those close by, who tolerate the risk because it gives them energy. (via dictionaryofobscuresorrows)
‘Explore me’ you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps, expecting to be...– Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body (via arielj-)
Anonymous asked: Your blog is an alluring representation of history, poetry, and the gorgeous act of falling in love...
Can anyone remember love? It’s like trying to summon up the smell of roses in a...– Arthur Miller (via inwardheartbeats)
I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human...– James A. Michener (via inwardheartbeats)
I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like...– Jonathan Safran Foer (via salveo)
Honestly, I’ll probably just sleep during the effects of Irene this weekend. I’ll wake up at around five tomorrow afternoon and the power will probably be out and I’ll just blindly feel my way through the house, grab something to eat and then go back into hibernation. This is how I deal with things that I don’t even want to acknowledge are happening.
Gone. The saddest word in the language. In any language.– Mark Slouka (via riversforstreets)
Anonymous asked: Could you please, please help me? I've loved and risked and lost it all, I still love him and he's moving on stride by enormous stride and I still feel crippled sometimes. I'm just too young. He doesn't love me anymore, why oh why do I still care?
There has to be something else to talk about besides love. But is there anything else? Yes. August waning into autumn, the last slivers of its thick heat kissing everything into flame. It makes me glad for winter not long afterwards, to cool the cinders November leaves behind. There’s the taste of dusk this time of year, and how soon we’ll be able to taste when the leaves start to...
I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to...– Margaret Atwood (via arielj-)
Some people meet the way the sky meets the earth— inevitably, and there is...– Louise Erdrich