February 2012
“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul,...”
– Sylvia Plath (via boyhood)
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Top five regrets of the dying
nevver:
I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.
I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
I wish that I had let myself be happier.more
January 2012
“You don’t love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy...”
– Wilde (via boyhood)
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“People fall so in love with their pain, they can’t leave it behind. The same as...”
– Chuck Palahniuk, Haunted (via crudities)
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“I have disappeared into my love for you - and I think you should either give me...”
– Charles Hunter
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“It is a curious emotion, this certain homesickness I have in mind. With...”
– Carson McCullers (via psychotherapy)
December 2011
“I often used to dream about you — vivid dreams with clear-cut stories. In these...”
– Haruki Murakami, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle (via align)
“it’s no use, he sees her; he starts to shake an cough
just like the old...”
– “Don’t Stand So Close to Me,” by the Police. I just figured out what he was saying for the second line and I got so excited. I love lyrics like that.
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here is something
“Well, if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”
Khayyam.
thebookstheygaveme:
I was thirteen, he ten years older when he gave me the book. A slim volume printed on thick parchment paper, a poem written by a man with a name like a poem: ‘Omar Khayam’. Inside were verses in quatrains, and black and white line drawings that suggested rather than showed those lineaments of gratified desire more often sought than found by the very young. I wanted him to...
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Coelho.
thebookstheygaveme:
A few years ago, I read Paulo Coelho’s By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept. I convinced my then boyfriend to read it because I myself was convinced that the story bore a ghostly resemblance to our own love story — a story that unbeknownst to either of us at the time, was approaching a grave ending. I made notes in the margins, highlighting passages I knew he would love...
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here is something
I want to run, again, but this time it’s more toward something than away.
Your arms were always closed, weren’t they?
