frozen tears

𝓛iv, she/her · infp · millennial · europe a dreamy and melancholy softness ♡ ꒱

[petaltexturedskies]

Katherine Mansfield, in a diary entry dated 14 October 1922, from Letters and Journals of Katherine Mansfield

[petaltexturedskies]

Walt Whitman, from "Give me the splendid silent sun" in Leaves of Grass

[petaltexturedskies]

Do you realize what a live force you are, just to speak of you in the abstract? You represent everything that is vital, live, moving, rising, flying, soaring

Anaïs Nin, Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love": The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1931-1932

[scribeherself]

still, there are strawberries staining your fingertips, cats asleep in impossible shapes, dog-eared books, thunderstorms heard from beneath warm blankets, handwritten letters, peaches in july, old songs through open windows, the smell of libraries, flowers growing through sidewalk cracks, someone remembering how you take your coffee, and the moon faithfully showing up every night as if she has never once considered giving up on us.

[petaltexturedskies]

Rainer Maria Rilke, in a letter to Lou Andreas-Salomé, dated 18 July 1903, from Rilke and Andreas-Salomé: A Love Story in Letters (1897-1926)

[petaltexturedskies]

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh

[requiem-on-water]

Butterfly Funeral (2010) by Mao Hamaguchi

[sandushengshou]

Cien años de soledad | One Hundred Years of Solitude 1.01 "Macondo"

[petaltexturedskies]

Anaïs Nin, in a diary entry dated 17 August 1924, from The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin Vol. III: 1923-1927

[fairycosmos]

clicking not interested on something used to mean they stopped showing it to you

[loveridden1999]

crossfaded somewhere between "there has to be more to life than this" and "every mundane thing is beautiful when you're with people you love"

[petaltexturedskies]

Anaïs Nin in a diary entry dated 17 August 1924, from The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin Vol. III: 1923-1927

[nixscriptum]

what we talk about when we talk about intimacy—

[petaltexturedskies]

I don't hear your words: your voice reverberates against my body like another kind of caress, another kind of penetration. I have no power over your voice. It comes straight from you into me. I could stuff my ears and it would find its way into my blood and make it rise.

Anaïs Nin, in a letter to Henry Miller, from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anais Nin Henry Miller

[petaltexturedskies]

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Rapture and Melancholy: The Diaries of Edna St. Vincent Millay

[clawmarks]

Rudolf Baumbach - Der Gesangverein Brüllaria und sein Stiftungsfest - 1893 - via Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin

[petaltexturedskies]

E.E. Cummings, from "Summer Silence" in Collected Poems: 1904-1962