She didn’t want to move, or to speak. She wanted to rest, to lean, to dream. She felt very tired. Virgina Woolf (via jiyeongmayretha)
Tag Archives: poetic
mahalkitax3: I romanticized you to the point where the knives you pressed into my skin began to look like Cupid’s arrows.
You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again. Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran (via psych-facts)
Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad dreams, your shoes, your nouns. Take me to your fingers. Margaret Atwood, In Other Worlds (via lesol-laluna)
Nothing I accept about myself can be used against me to diminish me. Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches (via tanya-nicole)
Each day means a new twenty-four hours. Each day means everything’s possible again. You live in the moment, you die in the moment, you take it all one day at a time. Marie Lu, Legend (via ohteenscanrelate)
Go on adventures, fall asleep in the woods with friends, wander around the city at night, sit in a coffee shop on your own, write on bathroom stalls, leave notes in library books, dress up for yourself, give to others, smile a lot. Emery Allen (via lovelustquotes)