January 2012
“Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch...”
– A. A. Milne (via millionen)
“I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it...”
– Catherine Breillat (via heterocera)
“2 A.M. You know. The person you can call at two a.m. and, no matter what,...”
– Sarah Dessen, What happened to goodbye (via runawaytrain)
“When someone cries so hard that it hurts their throat, it is out of frustration...”
– Chase Brooks, Hello, My Love 2: First Love Deserves a Second Chance (via suavium)
“We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed,...”
– Michael Ondaatje (via suavium)
“There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won’t...”
– Neil Gaiman (via tendollarbills)
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom,...”
– Charles Dickens (via ineffa-ble)
“The moon is backing away from us, an inch and a half each year. That means if...”
– Dorianne Laux (via cite-belle)
Roses are Berries, Violet is Cherries, Stop...
thewisepickle:
How I shall walk around on Valentines Day...
thewisepickle:
When someone you don't like touches you
most-awkward-moments:
Think Tumblr is addictive? Wait ‘til you’ve seen this blog!
“My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control...”
– Jack Kerouac (via thesaltwaternight)
Malandragem: You Want a Physicist to Speak at Your... →
thereisafish:
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know...
“But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The...”
– The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, Haruki Murakami (via lightedtunnels)
“I wake up, but where? I don’t just think this, I actually voice the question to...”
– Dance Dance Dance, Haruki Murakami (via lightedtunnels)
