Fairies, black, grey, green, and white,
William Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor (via floralnymph)
You moonshine revellers, and shades of night,
You orphan heirs of fixed destiny,
Attend your office and your quality.
(Source: anachronisticfairytales, via floralnymph)
Boyfrennnnnn
Does such a thing as ‘the fatal flaw,’ that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn’t. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all cost
The Secret History Donna Tartt (via glitterdeers)
(via marry-me-young)
My vagina.
Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings — always darker, emptier and simpler.
Friedrich Nietzsche (via russianfurs)
(Source: misswallflower, via bunnycuddles)
I closed my eyes to feel more keenly the lovely delicate-child-hands, gently tucking flower after flower into my curls. Pink, crimson, scarlet, white. The faint pungent odor of the petunias was hushed and sweet. And all my hurts were smoothed away. Something about the frank, guileless blue eyes, the beautiful young bodies, the brief scent of the dying flowers smote me like the clean quick cut of a knife. And the blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain.
Sylvia Plath (via young-dracula)
(Source: lavandula, via bunnycuddles)
We only write about two feelings: one is the first day of summer when you and all of your friends are standing on the edge of a cliff watching the sun set and being overcome with all of your hopes and dreams at once. The other is when you’re walking alone in the rain and realize you will be alone forever.
The Drums (via pouretrebelle)
(Source: cosmicdaydreams, via pouretrebelle)
It’s what I’ve never seen before that I recognize.
Diane Arbus (via nevver)
The direct, lawful, immediate fruit of consciousness is inertia—that is, a conscious sitting with folded arms.
Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from Underground
I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones, and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.
Sylvia Plath (via young-dracula)
(Source: lonehands, via bunnycuddles)
