🌈

[kosmogrl]

[mrsterlingeverything]

I will do anything to be free

[longnuts]

Even escape?

[mrsterlingeverything]

I dont know. Can i do that

[kurattes]

recent frierens

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Leo Tolstoy

[soft-bloom]

🍡 osaka + kyoto findings

[ketzalcoatl]

ketzal_coatl

[shisasan]

Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus, originally published: 1977

[manincaffeine]

[mournfulroses]

Sara Teasdale, from The Collected Poems of Sara Teasdale; "Song,"

[feral-ballad]

Taylor Byas, from I Done Clicked My Heels Three Times: Poems; “Don’t Go Getting Nostalgic”

[feral-ballad]

Mary Jo Bang, from A Film in Which I Play Everyone: Poems; “Hotel Incognito”

[soracities]

Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi, from "Theatre" (trans. Sarah Maguire & Sabry Hafez) [ID'd]

[moderndaymystic]

The purest form of love is consideration. When someone thinks about how things would make you feel. Pays attention to detail. Holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you. In any bond, how much they care about you can be found in how much they consider you

[i-was-made-for-another-planet]

“Dearest,

I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier ‘til this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer.

I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.”

March 28, 1941 - Virginia Woolf’s suicide letter.

[flowerytale]

Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Quotes by Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

[metamorphesque]

— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath

[text ID: And so it seems I must always write you letters that I can never send.]