May 2013
10 posts
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Marry your best friend. I do not say that lightly. Really, truly find the...
– N’tima (via nicotortorella) (via shehasnoears)
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It is a difficult thing for man to admit to himself that the insect or the bird...
– Friedrich Nietzsche, On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense (via sunrec)
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I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me. That you are a child playing with...
– (via 24ribs)
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There’s nothing in the world that loves you
more than the space you already...
– “Love Poem for What It Is,” Rebecca Hazelton (via commovente)
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April 2013
11 posts
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It’s like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.
– Haruki Murakami (Kafka on the Shore)
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They hang around, hitting on your friends
or else you never hear from them...
– Kim Addonizio, “Ex-Boyfriends” (via fleurishes)
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Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.
– Zelda Fitzgerald (via memereve)
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She feels in italics and thinks in capitals.
– Henry James (via skeletales)
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Not everyone is okay with living like an open wound. But the thing about open...
– Warsan Shire (via laughterandhope)
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March 2013
18 posts
1 tag
She is braille.
I read her with my hands,
her body speaks to me.
I...
– Jhavia Nicole. (via acideyedrops)
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eluviese:
he kept telling her that her real self was somewhere underneath the smiles and skin and cliches, so she snipped away her moon-eyes and newspaper lips, peeled off her coat her gloves her hands her scalp her skeleton frame until there were carcasses strewn across the bed like old sheets, and every single layer was gone. but when she looked in the mirror (for her real self) there was...
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I bought plum blossoms
more for the name
than for the color;
I buy lipstick...
– Dorothea Grossman, “Untitled” (via ethereally)
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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
– Anne Sexton (via rusalk)
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I’m sorry you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel
– Warsan Shire (via bognarolivia)
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To my daughters I need to say:
Go with the one who loves you biblically.
The...
– “untitled,” Rachel McKibbens (via commovente)
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Sometimes she seemed like a woman without skin. She felt everything so...
– Erica Jong, Remembering Anne Sexton (via commovente)
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Everything interests me, but nothing holds me.
– Fernando Pessoa. (via esdrujulasmuertas)
February 2013
11 posts
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She lives the poetry she cannot write.
– Oscar Wilde (via excrutiate)
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Trees talk to each other at night.
All fish are named either Lorna or Jack....
– Raul Gutierrez, “Lies I’ve Told My 3 Year Old Recently” (via words-in-lines)