Travel and tell no one. Live a true love story and tell no one. Live happily and tell no one. People ruin beautiful things.
Khalil Gibran
the best thing about used books is the notes and highlights and worn down pages
each one of them is a little conversation sent into the future.
Do you ever just stop in the middle of the day… and think about how could this sentence have ended?
And I would like to spend… my eternity with you? And finally stop pretending? Living together in a place that's ours? Without heaven or hell, not an angel and a demon, but just us?
To everyone that's confused, the planet Venus rotates very very slowly, with a single revolution taking about 243 Earth days, and Mercury rotates slowly, but not as slow as Venus.
“Two things to remember in life: Take care of your thoughts when you are alone, and take care of your words when you are with people.”
— Zig Ziglar
“It’s never too late to start being who you want to be”
— Unknown
“Stop calling yourself a failure. There are planets and stars in your eyes; There are fires and oceans in your veins. Your head is a forest, your heart a meadow. And you, my Love, are a work of art!”
— 3am
When Sylvia Plath wrote "I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited."
by Louise Glück
Why are you afraid?
A man in a top hat passed under the bedroom window. I couldn’t have been more than four at the time.
It was a dream: I saw him when I was high up, where I should have been safe from him.
Do you remember your childhood?
When the dream ended terror remained. I lay in my bed— my crib maybe.
I dreamed I was kidnapped. That means I knew what love was, how it places the soul in jeopardy. I knew. I substituted my body.
But you were hostage?
I was afraid of love, of being taken away. Everyone afraid of love is afraid of death.
I pretended indifference even in the presence of love, in the presence of hunger. And the more deeply I felt the less able I was to respond.
Do you remember your childhood?
I understood that the magnitude of these gifts was balanced by the scope of my rejection.
Do you remember your childhood?
I lay in the forest. Still, more still than any living creature. Watching the sun rise.
And I remember once my mother turning away from me in great anger. Or perhaps it was grief. Because for all she had given me, for all her love, I failed to show gratitude. And I made no sign of understanding.
For which I was never forgiven.
“I can’t sleep without your breathing and I can’t breathe each time you’re leaving.”
— Placebo - English Summer Rain