Beyond

Where forgotten words come to be remembered.

[motsoublies-blog]

Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it starts and stops.

Edgar Allan Poe

[motsoublies-blog]

People think being alone makes you lonely, but I don't think that's true. being surrounded by the wrong people is the loneliest thing in the world

Kim Culbertson

[motsoublies-blog]

Change happens when the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of change.

Anthony Robins 

[motsoublies-blog]

I like to see people reunited. I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take all the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.

Jonathan Safran Foer 

[motsoublies-blog]

I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity and her flaming self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be. I love her and that is the beginning of everything.

F. Scott Fitzgerald 

[motsoublies-blog]

I miss walking somewhere, knowing that someone is going to be waiting for me at the end of my destination. I miss not having to tell you how I feel, or what's wrong because you already know. I miss being the happiest I've ever been around you. I hate talking to strangers and being frustrated, thinking 'There is more to me.' Only you have seen that side of me. I miss you.

motsoublie 

[motsoublies-blog]

For the first boy I ever loved I drove five hours across an ocean of cornfields to crawl into his heat Every time I left, he cut off one of my fingers and kept it in a clear jar under his bed I wept the whole drive home A trail of blood to find my way back The second boy was just a distraction The hum of the television and a pair of swollen eyes He gnawed at my wrists, an ugly puppy I’d have tasted good, even if I’d never spoken The third was a fleet of sailboats spilling out across my tongue A pair of calloused palms, desperation, licking my teeth I was not so pretty when he opened his eyes Fourth sewed my mouth shut So I could only dance inside myself with heavy shoes So I could pretend I loved him in desperate gestures So I could unravel in his tired fists My hands have been fools They could not have been prepared for you I talked them into your pockets Filled their empty bellies with your beautiful lies My strange american desert My warm endless night I did not know to fear the hands that loved you before my own You stained her all over me Left the windows open while I slept in your bed Washed me with a sponge doused in her spit Every night, I watched you slit off my skin and hang it on her bones I could not open my mouth for fear she would come spilling out Now I have been silent for so long My fingers are tiny blind worms dancing in the night I tell them stories of our life before the darkness But I do not know if they believe me I do not know if they recognize my own voice

Carrie Rudzinski, “The Fifth One Who Walked Away” (via pigmenting)

[motsoublies-blog]

Deep within everyone's heart there always remains a sense of longing for that hour, that summer, that one brief moment of blossoming. For several weeks or months, rarely longer, a beautiful young woman lives outside ordinary life. She is intoxicated. She feels as if she exists beyond time, beyond its laws; she experiences not the monotonous succession of days passing by, but moments of intense, almost desperate happinness

Irène Némirovsky

[motsoublies-blog]

Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it.

Mark Twain

[motsoublies-blog]

I fell in love with solitude. Submerged myself in it like bathwater, soaked in it, let is wash over my skin, crawl into my pores, settle in my lungs. I inhale loneliness like it’s the sweetest spring air that has ever kissed my lips. When did one become the most beautiful number?

Anonymous 

[motsoublies-blog]

The sun stopped shining for me is all. The whole story is: I am sad. I am sad all the time and the sadness is so heavy that I can't get away from it. Not ever.

Nina Lacour, Hold Still 

[motsoublies-blog]

I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir the dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain.

The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde 

[motsoublies-blog]

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.

Ambrose Redmoon

[motsoublies-blog]

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

Victor Hugo - Les Miserables