And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul,...– Sylvia Plath (via hellanne)
You find a way, somehow, to get through the most horrible things, things you...– “The Year of Fog” by Michelle Richmond (via abjectmisery)
It feels good to think about you when I’m warm in bed. I feel as if you’re...– Haruki Murakami (via hellanne)
Making love was never about you and me in a bed. We made love whenever we held...– Ian Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via oh-the-alcoholic-afternoons)
mostlyfiction: Love isn’t about fucking each other at any opportunity. It also isn’t about how many months or years that you’ve been together. To me, love is about being able to see light inside of the person who knows nothing but darkness.
It feels good to think about you when I’m warm in bed. I feel as if you’re...– Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via oh-the-alcoholic-afternoons)
Have you ever just looked at someone and thought, “Holy jesus, I really love you?” They’re just talking or humming or watching a movie or reading a book or laughing or something, and there’s something about them in that moment—their body is alive, there’s a light in their eyes, something—that makes you think, “I just really love you.” It’s a weird sensation to think this, but it’s pretty awesome...
This is life. People have crises. They push each others buttons. They inflict...– Margaret Chenowith, Six Feet Under (via seashoresunmapped)
Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can...– Andrea Gibson, Bone Burying (via mournfully)
That’s what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.– Haruki Murakami, from 1Q84 (Alfred A. Knopf, 2011) (via ampliflyahhhh)
With you, intimacy colours my voice. Even ‘hello’ sounds like ‘come here’.– Warsan Shire (via oh-the-alcoholic-afternoons)
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet...– Lorenzo (The Merchant of Venice, Act V scene i)