the quiet things that no one ever knows

[eazy-does-it]

The story so far: In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

[eazy-does-it]

what if all the costs were even?

[books-n-quotes]

Once the game is over, the king & the pawn go back in the same box. -Italian Proverb

[quotemadness]

“The world will ask you who you are, and if you don’t know, the world will tell you.”

— Carl Jung

[quotemadness]

“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.”

— Charles Bukowski

[sunsetquotes]

“Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.”

— Ernest Hemingway

[liquidlightandrunningtrees]

“and if you have the ability to love love yourself first”

— Charles Bukowski, how to be a great writer

[books-n-quotes]

“No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don’t.”

— Stephen King, The Stand (via books-n-quotes)

[books-n-quotes]

“If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are.”

— Kristin Hannah, The Nightingale (via books-n-quotes)

[afadthatlastsforever]

“It’s a dangerous thing to romanticise the past, to allow nostalgia to drag up old memories from the depths of our hearts and fashion them into something they’re not. We made a mirage of a memory and knelt before it like a false god. What we called love was nothing but foolish hope.”

— Beau Taplin • N o s t a l g i a 

[sunsetquotes]

“In October any wonderful unexpected thing might be possible.”

— Elizabeth George Speare; The Witch of Blackbird Pond

[eazy-does-it]

Write it in a book, dear Don’t waste my time Save it for your diary Don’t try to ease my mind Love was growing teeth You were spitting blood Write it on your heart, dear You were never mine

[eazy-does-it]

A LOVE POEM, Charles Bukowski

all the women all their kisses the different ways they love and talk and need.

their ears they all have ears and throats and dresses and shoes and automobiles and x- husbands.

mostly the women are very warm they remind me of buttered toast with the butter melted in.

there is a look in the eye: they have been taken they have been fooled. I don’t know quite what to do for them.

I am a fair cook a good listener but I never learned to dance -- I was busy then with larger things,

but I’ve enjoyed their different beds smoking cigarettes staring at the ceilings. I was neither vicious or unfair. only a student.

I know they all have these feet and barefoot they go across the floor as I watch their bashful buttocks in the dark. I know that they like me, some even love me but I love very few.

some give me oranges and pills; others talk quietly of childhood and fathers and landscapes; some are almost crazy but none of them are without meaning; some love well, other not so; the best at sex are not always the best in other ways; each has limits as I have limits and we learn each other quickly.

all the women all the women all the bedrooms the rugs the photos the curtains, it’s something like a church only at times there’s laughter.

those ears those arms those elbows those eyes looking the fondness and the waiting I have been held I have been held.

- Charles Bukowski, 9-15-74

[eazy-does-it]

love is like a bell love is like a purple mountain love is like a glass of vinegar love is all the graves love is a train window she knows my name.

Charles Bukowski, excerpt from “Answer To A Note Found In The Mailbox”

[heartcountry]

It works like this. They leave, and then wait for your letters like you’re the one who walked away. Like you’re the one who burned down the highways between your houses. Like you’re the one who scattered the distance across the train tracks. They see you again and you’re rebuilding bridges and your hands are blistered and there’s a fire on the other side of the bridge that should tell you to run. But you don’t run. You just keep building because what else is there to do with yourself nowadays? Baby, I don’t know where you were when you got your heart broken for the first time, but I bet you still can’t go back there. I bet you’re still stuck somewhere else waiting for someone to meet you halfway, and no one is showing up. I know, baby. I know. He’s a wound that won’t heal, and you’re so tired of your skin turning soft and pink for someone who didn’t stay to see it happen. I know, baby, I know, You’re allowed to start your day still in love with his voice. You’re allowed to miss him like a war you were used to fighting. You’re allowed to want him to come back like a soldier from battle. One of these days you’re going to wake up without his name waiting like a ghost in your bed. One of these days, you’re going to wake up and forget that there’s supposed to be someone else next to you. And you’ll climb back into yourself and wonder why you ever left such a miracle of a body behind.

Y.Z, put your weapons down, and come home from war (via heartcountry)

[lifeinpoetry]

I prayed // like everyone I loved was on fire.

Eugenia Leigh, from “What I Miss Most About Hell,” published in Waxwing (via lifeinpoetry)

[quotethat]

I have learned that people will stay, leave, save, and destroy you, but by far the most dangerous thing they can ever do is come back.

Beau Taplin, The Arsenal (x)