Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who...– Rumi (via arabarabarab)
Tame Impala - Elephant →
He called it the meadowlands, those fields of swaying, rusting stalks. Polluted, iridescent plashets of stewed water pooled where soil should have been. I asked him how anything could grow in that swamp. It’s hard to pick out scenes for this story. How to discern what’s important. How do you compartmentalize the brittle histories between two people? Maybe interlaced fingers, spavined...
I can’t exactly describe how I feel but it’s not quite right. And it leaves me...– F. Scott Fitzgerald (via likeafieldmouse)
Nothing compares to your hands, nothing like the green-gold of your eyes. My...– Frida Kahlo, The Diary Of Frida Kahlo (via freyaloveschamomile)
Our days go by, and I never needed you.
What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly...– Sylvia Plath (via breakfast-at-heartbreak-hotel)
She laughed at that, but it wasn’t a joke so it sounded harsh. There was a fire burning out somewhere behind them and a change of wind brought it to his nose. It mingled with the sweetness of her hair and overwhelmed his senses, so he closed his eyes. She shook her head and got to her feet and walked back to the embers, leaving him alone with the moonlight dancing off the waves. It was...
You’ve felt it, haven’t you? Those feelings that seem to get so big in your...– Heather Anastasiu, Glitch (via infinite-paradox)
Being home is always refreshing.