nisma

I dont have the passion anymore, and so remember, its better to burn out than to fade away.

[quotespile]

“Reading was my escape and my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant of choice: reading for the pure pleasure of it, for the beautiful stillness that surrounds you when you hear an author’s words reverberating in your head.”

— Paul Auster, The Brooklyn Follies

[untrustyou]

[findinganamei]

[hellish-daddy]

“Eye contact”

— How people fall inlove (via hellish-daddy)

[vividspark]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I would have to be the July Queen, as it was July,

Margaret Atwood, from “Alias Grace,” published c. September 1996 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[quotespile]

The problem with gender is that it prescribes how we should be rather than recognizing how we are. Imagine how much happier we would be, how much freer to be our true individual selves, if we didn’t have the weight of gender expectations.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, We Should All Be Feminists (via quotespile)

[quotespile]

Loneliness is like starvation: you don’t realize how hungry you are until you begin to eat.

Joyce Carol Oates, Faithless (via quotespile)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I’m always just passing through like death itself, poet and stranger.

Enrique Lihn, tr. by Jonathan Cohen, from The Dark Room: Poems; “Market Place,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[con-alas-de-angeles]

At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon.

Edgar Allan Poe, The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe: The Sleeper (via con-alas-de-angeles)

[zuzuthejerkbender]

Okay, so we know somebody named Mai, and we also know someone named June. So tell me, how come we don’t know anyone named July?

Sokka, probably (via zuzuthejerkbender)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

It was a delightful June morning. The sun played on the waters of the river and brushed the dewy grass with its rays. The river and the meadow were strewn with rich diamonds of light.

Anton Chekhov, tr. by Peter Constantine, from “After The Fair,” c. 1880 (via violentwavesofemotion)

[chezagnes]

And then, one fairy night, May became June.

The Beautiful and Damned. F. Scott Fitzgerald (via chezagnes)

[soracities]

And all about the world is gold and green, dripping with laburnum and buttercups and the sweet stench of June.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962 (via soracities)

[shisasan]

This is June, the month of grass and leaves … already the aspens are trembling again, and a new summer is offered me.

Henry David Thoreau (via crimsonkismet)

[witchquotes]

It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

Maud Hart Lovelace

(via witchquotes)

[nachtimghetto]

Pastel dreams 💙💛💜💚