Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

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wolverxne:

Weekend Adventure | by: { nortonzanini }

(via becomingsunlight)

"Let me tell you what I do know: I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multi-vocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper. I didn’t want to write these pages until there were no hard feelings, no sharp ones. I do not have that luxury. I am sad and angry and I want everyone to be alive again. I want more landmarks, less landmines. I want to be grateful but I’m having a hard time with it."

- Richard Siken, Spork Editor’s Pages: Black Telephone (via avvfvl)

(Source: grammatolatry, via becomingsunlight)

wolverxne:

Weekend Adventure | by: { nortonzanini }

(via becomingsunlight)


You cursed the sun when it stepped to your girl
thelandofmaps:

Pangea with current names and political borders. [1600x1587]CLICK HERE FOR MORE MAPS!thelandofmaps.tumblr.com

Versailles gardens from above

The Blue Arch of a Mosque in Esfahan, IranTandis Khodadadian, April 2013

"You never need to apologize
for how you chose to survive."

- Clementine von Radics (via journalofanobody)

(via lifeinpoetry)

"

I wish I were a poet. I’ve never confessed that to anyone, and I’m confessing it to you, because you’ve given me reason to feel that I can trust you. I’ve spent my life observing the universe, mostly in my mind’s eye. It’s been a tremendously rewarding life, a wonderful life. I’ve been able to explore the origins of time and space with some of the great living thinkers. But I wish I were a poet.

Albert Einstein, a hero of mine, once wrote, ‘Our situation is the following. We are standing in front of a closed box which we cannot open.’

I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that the vast majority of the universe is composed of dark matter. The fragile balance depends on things we’ll never be able to see, hear, smell, taste, or touch. Life itself depends on them. What’s real? What isn’t real? Maybe those aren’t the right questions to be asking. What does life depend on?

I wish I had made things for life to depend on.

"

- Jonathan Safran Foer, from Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
(via mitochondria)

(via lifeinpoetry)

"And the rest is rust and stardust."

- Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita (via larmoyante)

(via lifeinpoetry)

"The sun setting. The lawns on fire.
The lost day, the lost light.
Why do I love what fades?"

- Mark Strand, opening strophe to “The Guardian,” from Darker: Poems (Atheneum, 1971)

(Source: apoetreflects, via lifeinpoetry)

nevver:

But to be young was very heaven, Katrin Korfmann

"

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

"

- Gwendolyn Brooks (via observando)

(via empty-rings-around-the-sun)

"It is almost as if happiness is an acquired taste, like coconut cordial or ceviche, to which you can eventually become accustomed, but despair is something surprising each time you encounter it."

- Lemony Snicket, The End (via observando)

(via empty-rings-around-the-sun)