If a story is in you, it has to come out.

I smell like trees.

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One night they fell asleep, side by side. He slept curled upon her back; a dark comma against her pale, elegant phrase.

A.S. Byatt, Possession (via faulknerandfieldnotes)

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His eyes were the same colour as the sea in a postcard someone sends you when they love you, but not enough to stay.

Warsan Shire (via faulknerandfieldnotes)

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Robert Ferri's Prison Tears

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[bookmania]

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As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

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Quan Yin

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