I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways.
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@legarasu
I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways.
(via lulu-a)
Why should I apologize for the monster I’ve become? No one ever apologized for making me this way.
The Joker (via dok-o)
She needed a hero, and that’s what she became.
mysheriamour (via wnq-writers)
Every moment is a poem if you hold it right.
Lauren Zuniga (via wordsnquotes)
But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose
Anne Brontë, “The Narrow Way” (via wordsnquotes)
You are well within your rights to stand up, interrupt everyone around you and say ‘This is not who I am. This is not what I want. I’m sorry, but you’ve mistaken me for somebody else.’
Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via exoticwild)
Speak to me, aching heart: what Ridiculous errand are you inventing for yourself
Louise Glück, excerpt of “Midnight,” Meadowlands (via exoticwild)
The sun is 91 million miles away; not too far, not too close. Be like that.
Sarah Gorham, “Detach” (via wordsnquotes)
I am a trembling in your throats; your words are smeared with my blood.
Adonis, from ‘Psalm’, Selected Poems (trans. Khaled Mattawa)
I never realize how much I like being home unless I’ve been somewhere really different for a while.
Juno (2007), Dir. Jason Reitman (via exoticwild)
— I’m in pain all the time. — Where? — Inside. I can’t explain it.
Clarice Lispector, from The Hour Of The Star (via exoticwild)
In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you no longer need to feel it.
Mitch Albom,
Five People You Meet In Heaven
(via suspend)
Desire as round as peaches bloom in me all night, I no longer gather what falls.
Anne Carson, “On Hedonism,” Great American Prose Poems: From Poe to Present. (via exoticwild)