I don’t ask you to love me always like this,
but I ask you to remember.
somewhere inside me
there’ll always be the person
I
am tonight.
— ~F. Scott Fitzgerald (via musingsinfemininity)
(Source: quote-book, via neverendingpoetry)
I was as hollow and empty as the spaces between stars.
— Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye (via libraryland)
(via dwellhere)
For the first time, she did want more. She did not know what she wanted, knew that it was dangerous and that she should rest content with what she had, but she knew an emptiness deep inside her, which began to ache.
— The Dream of Scorpio (via wordsthat-speak)
(via wordsthat-speak)
As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.
— Walden; or, Life in the Woods, Henry David Thoreau (via winmeroundwithprose)
I thought
that pain meant
I was not loved.
It meant I loved.- Louise Gluck
(via leopoldgursky)
For there is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one’s own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.
— Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being (via melkell)
(via thebonepalaceballet)
Is it possible to love something so much, you imagine it wants to destroy you only because it has denied you?
— House of Leaves (via facingtheabyss)
(via unfetteredhowl)
I like the sea: we understand one another. It is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have; and so am I.
— Greta Garbo (via which-witch)
(Source: mizenscen, via unfetteredhowl)
My heart ached, not really
knowing why.
— Anna Akhmatova, from “Outing” (May 1913), in The Complete Poems, translated by J. Hemschemeyer (via growing-orbits)
Lucy Schwartz & Aqualung, Cold
god and his priests and his kings
all were waiting
all will wait
as they go over
held between heaven and hell
as they’re dancing
as they dance
over and over
over
cold
cold
crimson and bare as I stand
yours completely
yours
as we go over
sing for the lion and lamb
their hearts are hunting
still hearts hold
ever and ever
ever
cold
cold
god and his priests and his kings
turn they’re faces
even they feel the
cold
what you are given
can’t be forgotten
and never forsaken
what you are given
can’t be forgotten
and never forsaken
what you are given
can’t be forgotten
and never forsaken
cold
The stars that were supposed to guide us home kept falling from the sky.
— Josh Boyd (via allmymetaphors)
(via palewhiteflesh)
