[vexheart]

[eimai-enas-hlian8os]

Μπουμπούκια είναι ακόμα , κάντε υπομονή

[philosophybits]

“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”

— Henry David Thoreau, Walden

[madgirlscosm-deactivated2024052]

"I returned to solitude and books."

[happyheidi]

[fantasie-improptu]

[inkskinned]

i have this theory that every time we dream, we see an alternate reality. after all, in string theory, all universes exist. i have died many times there. i get déjà vu a lot. i wonder if i am in someone else’s dream, and she has just woken up. maybe she’s screaming at me to stop, to move a little to the left, to watch out. when i wake up i always wonder if i’m the same me or i’ve been replaced by the girl in my dream. if i died there to get a second chance here. or maybe here is where i’m learning how not to die so violently. i don’t know. i don’t get much sleep. 

[oldfarmhousefallfeatures]

http://instagram.com/terra_naute

[moami]

hey, how long does it take before the forest god comes to get you after you leave a strand of your hair and a fresh loaf of bread in a mushroom circle by the lake? asking for a fr

[ehlockscreens]

[glysunflower]

[scullyseviltwin]

I mean, who doesn’t? …this kid…

[afakepsychic]

[kafkaesque-world]

The question is how much passion is there, how much time it will take, for the walls of the heart to be pounded thin, that is if the lungs do not give out before the heart.

Franz Kafka, Letter to Max Brod (via kafkaesque-world)

[thelovejournals]

‘Maybe…you’ll fall in love with me all over again.’'Hell,’ I said, ‘I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?’'Yes. I want to ruin you.’'Good,’ I said. ‘That’s what I want too.’

Ernest Hemingway,  A Farewell to Arms  (via thelovejournals)

[philosophybits]

Excellence is never an accident. It represents the wise choice of many alternatives. Choice, not chance, determines your destiny.

Aristotle (via philosophybits)

[philosophybits]

The true purpose of tragedy is to purify the passion.

Aristotle (via philosophybits)

[theliteraryjournals]

I loved to sleep with the window open. Rainy nights were the best of all: I would open the window and put my head on the pillow and close my eyes and feel the wind on my face and listen to the trees sway and creak.

Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane (via theliteraryjournals)