Rainy days, i’m in love
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Rainy days, i’m in love
When Khaled Hosseini wrote, "A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you." I had to just stop for a second there.
Rain be gentle on my beloved, For she loves dancing to your melody.
— rebel x
“I know that feeling. You have to do something. You have to change something radically, because you can’t stay like you are for another second, or you’re going to explode.”
— Jennifer Echols, Forget You (via meineluft)
there are days, i just feel ok. and, then there are the days. i feel exhausted. i struggle to sleep in night. i hold my head tight and pull my hair so the thoughts in my head stop twisting. but, there's nothing that helps me stop thinking of what I don't want to. and, it's one of those nights. im struggling.
“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.””
— Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass (via wedge-of-words)
When you're gone I shall look out of that window and think of you. I shall waste the whole evening thinking of you. I shall waste my whole life, I believe.
Virginia Woolf, Night and Day
“I am still a coward, still fearful; none of that has changed. But I turn and walk away from her. It’s like stepping off a cliff, believing the air will hold you up. And it does. I see that I don’t have to do what she says, and, worse and better, I’ve never had to do what she says. I can do what I like.”
— Margaret Atwood, Cat’s Eye
“Whenever I was on the point of speaking, I considered myself to be in ambush; and looking upon the ground, I uttered only a few words […] In order that my talk might not consist of complaint about recent happenings and become burdensome to people, my tongue remained firmly tied.”
— John Gower, Vox Clamantis (trans. by Eric W. Stockton)
“Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.
—
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, Sylvia Plath
“I couldn’t help but sense, deep within his smile, a solitude that comes from a certain sort of secret.”
— Murakami - Killing Commendatore
such a
tragedy fallen
upon
the beloved of
Muhammad (s).
an eighteen years old's
hair
turned grey
of grief
she kept
in
her heart
like a great
secret.
a secret
Ali
buried in dust
along with
ashes
of his
heart.
burnt
of
fire; that broke out
at
the door
of
fatima (s).
she kept hiding
bruises.
they left on
her face.
while; she inhaled pain
and
exhaled oppression.
with; broken ribs
she
hugged her
scared childs
of
people who invaded
her
holy house.
only; fizza
knew
of all the
pain
zehra went through.
I am unable to describe exactly what is the matter with me; now and then there are horrible fits of anxiety, apparently without cause, or otherwise a feeling of emptiness and fatigue in the head.
— Vincent van Gogh, in a letter to his sister
“I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.”
— Uma Thurman (via perrfectly)