[taitaiun]

[inkpressedpetals]

this is what best friends are for.

[theoptia]

Simone de Beauvoir, from Diary of a Philosophy Student: Volume 1, 1926-27

Text ID: I observe how much I have matured since last year despite my belief that I was losing myself, how something strong was born from the painful experiences survived and from the numerous minutes that I believed were wasted.

[mariaangels]

Bárbara Bezina

[ariaiscursed]

[anotheraldin]

‘Adi ibn Hatim reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said:

Guard yourself from the Hellfire, even with half of a date in charity. If one cannot find it, then with a kind word.

-Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī | No. 6195

[feral-ballad]

Jeanette Winterson, from Lighthousekeeping

[tallahasseemp3]

"Can the absence of words tell a story? Like a pattern in lace, the holes as important as the threads?"

Eden Robins, Remember You Will Die

[89words]

“…and I needed relief from myself.”

— Mary Szybist, Incarnadine: Poems

[journalofanobody]

““There is an eternal landscape, a geography of the soul; we search for its outlines all our lives.””

— Josephine Hart (via jennifercoynequdeen)

[scribeherself]

The taste of overripe peaches over the sink, bare feet on hardwood floors that stayed warm long after the sun went down, the sudden shift from green to gold, and the quiet realization that the sweetest part of summer is already slipping through your fingers like melted ice.

when june fades into july.

[inkpressedpetals]

conversations with a ghost.

[starrover]

“you’ve been living, it seems, somewhere else, in the silence of the night sky.”

— Louise Glück, from Telescope; Averno, 2006

[puffybus21]

“When the self loses itself in a transcendent purpose — whether to write great poetry, craft beautiful furniture, understand the motions of galaxies, or help children be happier — the self becomes largely invulnerable to the fears and setbacks of ordinary existence.”

— Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

[soracities]

Charles Wright, from "A Journal of the Year of the Ox", The World of Ten Thousand Things: Poems 1980-1990 [ID'd]

[soracities]

Again the silence of flowers [...] How easily summer fills the room.

Charles Wright, from "The Southern Cross", The World of Ten Thousand Things: Poems 1980-1990

[derangedrhythms]

A cold wind blew somewhere in me, lifting little leaves of terror and obscure longing.

Toni Morrison, The Bluest Eye