February 2011
23 posts
Hello,
This blog will no longer be updated.
It no longer serves it’s initial purpose and has come to be more of a chore, a force of habit then something of enjoyment. I’m going to focus on the important things now.
It was fun while it lasted Tumblr.
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There had been four laugh lines around her eyes when she was truly happy.
You had kissed both of her temples four times, once for each of them.
Her ring fingers had been longer than her index.
You had traced their lines with your own until you knew them better than anything but her eyes.
Her wrists had been pianist’s wrists.
Of course they had been pianist’s wrists.
The bone had been as...
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You can love someone so much…But you can never love people as much as you can...
– John Green (via amourstatique)
January 2011
36 posts
… the shadow of this tall black tree hides the forest that was your life.
– Eduoard Levé, Suicide (via invisiblestories)
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I had the most terrible dream last night, you were dying. We held hands before the arched window, looking out into a green stream and straining our eyes to see the blue of the ocean. Your bones were so prominent, it felt like I was holding the hand of a skeleton. In the most terrible moment, all I could see was your eyes, framed in black lashes, wet with tears. As I later walked past your room in...
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Winter, please come back;
The most fragile and naive facets of my romanticist expectations seem so much more plausible when you’re here.
Hearts may break, but hearts are the toughest of muscles, able to pump for a...
– Neil Gaiman (Fragile Things)
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Anonymous asked: This feeling you can not describe could perhaps come from a lack of creative expression. A bank built up, released as frustration and all the other wild emotions you describe as something unlike normality. What caused the block between your creativity and your expression in the first place, however, I'm uncertain. Perhaps you need some time, a long time, spent in the presence of God. Rest in...
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And it's in that moment when your breath catches...
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I find my self regretful, that it should so come to this, having myself write on the pages of the books I so cherished in order to get my small words out. For you must, must hear this. I beg, pray, listen. These are the confines of my art, the shackles and windows to my soul.
Feelings so strong you can barely breath, barely be, in the final hour they will be all you have left. The fruit of pain,...
How does art help you survive? It helps us survive by making us attentive. In a...
– Milton Glaser (via unicornology)
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What a laugh, though. To think that one human being could ever really know...
– Orson Scott Card, Shadow of the Hegemon via larssss.](via tobia)
Stopped as an attribute of a person, sex inequality takes the form of gender;...
– Catherine MacKinnon ‘Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law’.
This quote, despite working on a presumed heterosexual basis is to me still very moving. It’s a sentence of driving force, thrusting itself forward into one’s sphere of understanding.
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Things that seem;
Disconnection. Apathy.
I watch as (my own) relationships wither, (my own) passions die, (my own) happiness fades and (my own) joy ceases to exist, and yet, I cannot move.
I can do nothing. I’m frozen within my own disconnection. In almost third party observation I’m losing the things which mean the most to me, the people who mean the most to me and I can’t even bring myself to...
I love you also means I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you,...
– Jonathan Safran Foer (via inyearstocome)