June 2010
8 posts
Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and...
– Miriam Beard (via lavenderdays) (via booklover)
Writing is not life, but I think that sometimes it can be a way back to life.
– Stephen King (On Writing) (via awritersruminations) (via booklover)
There are three happiness killers - doing work you do not love and are not...
– Richard Florida, The Happiness Project: Cycling, Writing, Walking — and Living in the Right City.
In reading, friendship is suddenly brought back to its original purity. There is...
– Marcel Proust, Days of Reading
Somehow she knew that you didn’t get many moments like this in your life:...
– Wall, Neil Gaiman
May 2010
5 posts
If we were children
I would bake you a mud pie
Warm and brown beneath the sun...
– What I Wouldn’t Do, A Fine Frenzy
April 2010
34 posts
I realize that these are little things. But they all add up to the big picture...
– Sara from When It Happens by Susane Colasanti | Submitted by jessieallover (via quote-book)
Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it....
– Howard Thurman (via kari-shma)
Her kiss was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.
– Nicole Krauss in The History of Love. (via edatrix) (via quote-book)
If you are ever in doubt as to whether to kiss a pretty girl, always give her...
– Thomas Carlyle (via kari-shma)
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February 2010
3 posts
The only love worth fighting for is one that you...
Bittersweet seasons. Mistake a warm winter for spring. Seems like I’m best at leaving when leaving is not the best thing. You couldn’t help it if you needed more than I could give. That’s just the way it goes now.. I call you misplaced but never a waste of my time. Everybody’s gonna make mistakes, But you’ll never be one of mine. You couldn’t help it if you needed more than I could give. ...
Untitled
Don’t rationalize away the truth of what you are.
You once spoke with conviction and vibrance in your voice, a flow of honesty, a citizen of loyalty.
You have twisted yourself around a barbed fence, entangling your strengths, weeping through the dirt scrawled across your cheeks.
You throw words at walls and signs and yourself, sling them from your mouth against brick and clay and...