☾

"There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning."

[flowerytale]

Gillian Flynn ― Gone Girl

[autumnfallandwinterchristmas]

“October, crisp, misty, golden October, when the light is sweet and heavy.”

— Angela Carter, The Magic Toyshop (via tormentsofman)

[sapphoisms]

It is a muggy August morning and the air in the room is still. Well over half the year has gone by already, which is a worry. I wanted to make something of myself this year. There’s still time, I think. Definitely some time.

Yrsa Daley-Ward, “The Terrible”  (via sapphoisms)

[atreides]

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

— Maud Hart Lovelace (via pagewoman)

[brigantias-isles]

“And the Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere; And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.”

— Percy Bysshe Shelley ~ The Sensitive Plant

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

As time goes on, you’ll understand. What lasts, lasts; what doesn’t, doesn’t. Time solves most things. And what time can’t solve, you have to solve yourself.

(via dvddytaughtme)

[quotemadness]

October, crisp, misty, golden October, when the light is sweet and heavy.

Angela Carter (via quotemadness)

[quotespile]

We’re in such a hurry most of the time we never get much chance to talk. The result is a kind of endless day-to-day shallowness, a monotony that leaves a person wondering years later where all the time went and sorry that it’s all gone.

Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (via quotespile)

[watchoutforintellect]

This is the last leaf in the year’s book. Now I come to grief.

Anne Sexton, from “Eighteen Days Without You” (December 5th) in The Complete Poems (via watchoutforintellect)

[withlovesn]

A year ago, everything was different . I wouldn’t have pictured myself like this , And now that I look back, I have realized that a year can do a lot to a person .

(via ruminehoney)

[destinydeanda]

Camping out in Oregon was like being in the Revenant

[inferior]

O. Coast By James Fitzgerald 

[matialonsorphoto]

[millstoney]

[dangerly]

[boulevards]

It was Autumn, the springtime of death. Rain spattered the rotting leaves, and a wild wind wailed. Death was singing in the shower. Death was happy to be alive.

Tom Robbins, from Still Life with Woodpecker (via boulevards)

[thursdays-at-the-coffeeshop]

Rain on roof outside window, gray light, deep covers and warm blankets. Rain and nip of autumn in air; nostalgia, itch to work better and bigger. That crisp edge of autumn.

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, 26 August 1956 in Paris (via weltenwellen)