Chipped Tooth Diaries

But for now we are young, let us lay in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see.

[moongloss]

John Galliano Spring 2017 Ready-to-Wear

[electromagienet]

Someone: why do u always say u feel sick

Me: because, my sweet dude, I literally cannot determine the line between my mental illness and physical unwellness anymore. I am Literally Always Ready To Die I am in a constant state of uncomfort my guy it always makes me feel like I'm gonna be ridin the queasy train to regretville

Me: haha

[lookatmeheyoverhere-deactivated]

[thelovejournals]

‘I’m your girl,’ she said in the dark. ‘Your girl. No matter what I’m always your girl.’

Ernest Hemingway, The Garden Of Eden (via wordsnquotes)

[brittany-murphy]

[methgrips]

[jawghosts-deactivated20181205]

Soft as cream. Being alive was the hard part.

Sethe, Beloved by Toni Morrison (via jawghosts)

[wordsnquotes]

Oh, darling….You will be good to me, won’t you?…You will, won’t you?…Because we’re going to have a strange life.

Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms  (via wordsnquotes)

[lyricslife]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I love to drink coffee with people in the morning. And I love to drink coffee in the morning with no one in my fucking face – Excuse my soul.

Jack Kerouac, from a letter to Allen Ginsberg (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I came Burning burning burning burning.

T.S. Eliot, from The Wasteland (via woman1924)

[theclassicsreader]

Men have used her meanly. She will eat them.

Sylvia Plath from Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices (via napalmsoda)

[the-final-sentence]

I no longer want to believe these problems are too complex for us to make sense of them.

Roxane Gay, from “Feel Me. See Me. Hear Me. Reach Me.” in Bad Feminist (via the-final-sentence)

[luthienne]

I have done nothing all summer but wait for myself to be myself again —

Georgia O’Keeffe, in a letter to Russel Vernon Hunter, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters (via searchingfortenderness)

[lachantefleurie]

“It is mist and rose of eternal morning. Moon-honey that flows from buried stars. What is holy baptism but God become water”

— Federico García Lorca

[the-final-sentence]

I am light honed To a still point in the incandescent Onrush, a fine ash in the beast’s sudden Dessication when the sun explodes.

Wole Soyinka, from “Around Us, Dawning” (via the-final-sentence)

[numerodispari]

Lips draw