Do not look for a sanctuary in anyone except your self.
—Siddhārtha Gautama
(Source: larmoyante, via wethinkwedream)
I had spent my whole life feeling homesick. The only difference between the two of us was that I didn’t know what or where home was.
—Marian Keyes (via youseethelagoon)
(Source: rougelis)
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
My best friend.
everyone should follow theramblingsloth.tumblr.com because it’s a beautiful breath of fresh air. Naavin is so talented!!
(Source: theramblingsloth)
I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page and I could do anything I wanted.
—Jack Kerouac (via wethinkwedream)
(Source: mindthings-to-waste, via wethinkwedream)
“The city is being constructed by an old woman born in 1881 who wants to record all the important events in her life so that she can remember them. Each year that she has lived is designated by a street, and each week is represented by a door. The doors belong to places where important events occurred. The blank doors are for those weeks that she can’t remember. The old woman hopes that out of her memory and forgetfulness, as recorded in the streets of doors, a pattern or sign will emerge and she will one day see the story of her life. Every door opens on a small closet-like space. Only one door in each street of doors leads to the next street. It is therefore necessary to go from door to door searching for the entry door.”
—Alice Aycock, from “The First City of the Dead: The City of Doors (1914)”
(Source: always-halcyon, via strugglegivesyoustrength)
(via tofudreams)
Any fool can be happy. It takes a man with real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.
—Clive Barker
(Source: lazyyogi)
Here is what I know:
You drink your coffee black and we are afraid of each other.
Once you kissed my neck in front of your friends
and it made me very shy.
Once you kissed my stomach and I started crying.
I see the tender way you touch things and want to kiss your nose
but I keep my mouth to myself.
Your collarbones are craters big enough to fit my fist into.
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in months.
I was not good to the last person I loved so I punished my heart
(I let it break and bleed out then roughly sewed it back together)
It is hard to write poems when I only know how to fuck you.
I am always trying. I am thinking of Somedays. I am saying goodbye.
You asked why I never write anything honest so I am writing you this.
— Clementine von Radics
(Source: clementinevonradics, via wethinkwedream)
I was interested in everything and committed to nothing.
—Lin, Shantaram
(Source: brooksmatic, via comfortablymyself)
There are only two types of women —
goddesses and doormats.
—Pablo Picasso
(Source: home2cali)
Suddenly I turned around and she was standin’ there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns
‘Come in,’ she said, ‘I’ll give you shelter from the storm.’
—Bob Dylan, “Shelter From the Storm”
(Source: larmoyante, via comfortablymyself)
Number block
Like a speed dial in reverse
I should have your number
locked away, blocked
your name cut from my tongue
a skeleton key worn down
into a blunt fist to bite on
in case I try to reach for you
through the night again.
