La Reine

Kuhu

[brittanybutler]

gordo was the truth

[aphelia]

untitled by inaminorchord on Flickr.

[monet-be-cray]

Southern France vibes

[simply-quotes-deactivated202002]

My grandmother once told me, “Relationships are work, honey, and they aren’t 50/50. Some days when I get up I only feel like giving 10%, then your granddaddy has to give 90% that day. But there is always 100% love.”

Leigh Ann Lunsford (via simply-quotes)

[hirxeth]

“I suppose it won’t matter when I’m 38, but I’m upset about it.”

Submarine (2010) dir. Richard Ayoade

[myyoungwildworld]

Meet me where the sky touches the sea. Wait for me where the world begins

Finding Love- Sky (via psych-facts)

[scrub-lyf]

[lazulando]

Eu quis te convencer mas chega de insistir.

[convexly]

untitled by Mii Y on Flickr.

[panatrophy]

[thelovejournals]

That’s how you know you love someone, I guess. When you can’t experience anything without wishing the other person were there to see it, too.

Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants (via thelovejournals)

[westerus]

[millionen]

© Hope Mazzy

[balloonshooter-blog]

[derivings]

by Tra Nguyen

[misswallflower]

Welcome Morning

“There is joy in all: in the hair I brush each morning, in the Cannon towel, newly washed, that I rub my body with each morning, in the chapel of eggs I cook each morning, in the outcry from the kettle that heats my coffee each morning, in the spoon and the chair that cry “hello there, Anne” each morning, in the godhead of the table that I set my silver, plate, cup upon each morning. All this is God, right here in my pea-green house each morning and I mean, though often forget, to give thanks, to faint down by the kitchen table in a prayer of rejoicing as the holy birds at the kitchen window peck into their marriage of seeds. So while I think of it, let me paint a thank-you on my palm for this God, this laughter of the morning, lest it go unspoken. The Joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard, dies young.”

- Anne Sexton  

[lachantefleurie]

“Nobody knows you. No. But I sing of you … It will be a long time, if ever, before there is born an Andalusian so true, so rich in adventure. I sing of his elegance with words that groan, and I remember a sad breeze through the olive trees.”

– Federico García Lorca (via inmilkwood)

[ingelnook]

*** by Justin Wolfe on Flickr.