May 2011
I wrote a book about living in paradise,
now living in paradise isn’t what it’s like in books.
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Wind walks where we wait. Isn’t it strange how this breeze feels cooler the closer we stand?
I’m giving myself a break, a fracture, if you will.
Bigger statues will be built upon monuments, but they crumble all of them crumble. And then they sink. And they never meant anything, to anyone.
Everything ends up in the Earth, eventually.
Later she sat on the ground in the forest between school and home, and spring...
– William Steig, The Amazing Bone (via kaleidoscopedreams)
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I swear to god you think the same way I do. I truly believe that people should...
We're not fucking done until we're dead and...
Her voice struggled on through the heat, beating against it, molding its...
– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Well, I’m going to act up, but not in your fucking play.
jokewithoutapunchline replied to your photo
I was just going to post a picture of a rainbow, but I’m outclassed.
That’s a double rainbow to you, sir.
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I want something, but I don’t know what.
Hell is empty. All the devils are here.
– William Shakespeare, The Tempest
Anonymous asked: You are very pretty, I am often jealous of your face.
harshcardigan asked: A. Thanks for the follow!
B. Judging from your blog you are awesome. You listen to Cap'n Jazz, take awesome pictures and quote The Great Gatsby.
B. Judging from your blog you are awesome. You listen to Cap'n Jazz, take awesome pictures and quote The Great Gatsby.
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Today was a nice day.
Standing in the tall grass. Thinking nothing. You...
fightingxstarlight replied to your photo: o.O my hair grew!
nice. i need to cut mine, its fucking out of control
tame the beast!
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Nevertheless he is the only one of them all who does not seem to me ridiculous....
–
Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Le Petit Prince
literarycollective:
Life is a constant stream of why do these people even like me and why does no one like me.
This is me saying fuck that.
Tell us a story, I know you’re not boring.
Sudden storm, then sudden sun. Give me,
I almost said: and stopped, began again...
– Reginald Shepherd, from “Roman Year” (via proustitute)
Fuck Your Emotional Bullshit.
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Instead of shadows, lonely cars cast fogged light onto the highway.
I curl my toes in until this dark spell passes. I close my eyes to a blue world at fifty miles every hour, needing to crack my bones, haven’t stretched in three.
“Meridan, disconnecticut” you say. Because they look far-off, I say.
The mountains grow and gray as they may, living parallel to where weighted...
Art is the antidote that can call us back from the cage of numbness, restoring...
I like people too much or not at all.
– Sylvia Plath (via lolwutrylie)
I love the way you smell in summer; you smell like summer.