(Source: lacooletchic, via saintofsass)
(Source: danielodowd, via baresteethnotfrown)
…I love you and all this is nothing. — Ernest Hemingway, from The Garden Of Eden (via violentwavesofemotion)
I wish I hadn’t shown you the darkest parts of me. — I Would Take it All Back (#616: July 21, 2014)
(Source: write2014, via sun-burst)
The Soul does not love; It is Love Itself. It Does not Exist; It is Existence Itself. It does not Know; It is Knowledge Itself. — Patanjali (via yeshecholwa)
(Source: thingsthatsing, via pyrrhic-victoria)
And there are never really endings, happy or otherwise. Things keep going on, they overlap and blur, your story is part of your sister’s story is part of many other stories, and there is no telling where any of them may lead. — The Night Circus, Erin Morgenstern (via seabois)
why do teenage boys go through that phase where they just imitate female moaning noises
it’s the only way they can hear it
I want to see thirst
In the syllables,
In the sound;
Feel through the dark
For the scream. — Pablo Neruda (via ontheedgeofdarkness)
(Source: observando, via howitzerliterarysociety)
I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.
After that I liked jazz music.
Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.
I used to not like God because God didn’t resolve. But that was before any of this happened. — Donald Miller (via observando)
(Source: dudleyworl, via wolfmanssister)
welcome to machu picchu.. i’ll be your guide.
(Source: mirkokosmos, via veganlove)
(Source: neverlaandss, via wolfmanssister)