[poetic-wilderness]

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

- The Song Of Achilles, Madeline Miller

[poetic-wilderness]

Mostly I have felt myself becoming a servant of sadness. I am still looking for the beauty in that.

— Maggie Nelson, from Bluets

[poetic-wilderness]

“I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one!”

— Edna St. Vincet Millay, Afternoon on a Hill

[poetic-wilderness]

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

- The Song Of Achilles, Madeline Miller

[academic-vampire]

𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔶𝔢

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— beau taplin

[existentialyearning]

Martin Buxbaum

[academic-vampire]

𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔫

[lunamonchtuna]

— Fyodor Dostoevsky (via lunamonchtuna)

[ruhaniya]

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Nikita Gill

[midnightinshadow]

[kameneva]

love, buried three times

@kameneva

[academic-vampire]

𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔩𝔲𝔢

[lunamonchtuna]

— Sylvia Plath, quoting an acquaintance in ‘The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath’

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Nitya Prakash

[dreamyeuphory]

~ Like a train, time went by...~