(Source: howemmaseesit)
"I could fill a book with reasons, and they would all be true, though not true of all. Only one same reason is shared by all of us: we wish to create worlds as real as, but other than the world that is. Or was. This is why we cannot plan. We know a world is an organism, not a machine. We also know that a genuinely created world must be independent of its creator; a planned world (a world that fully reveals its planning) is a dead world. It is only when our characters and events begin to disobey us that they begin to live."
— John Fowles, The French Lieutenant’s Woman (via distantheartbeats)
(via booklover)
"I wish I could say I felt guilty for what I did. I don’t."
— Veronica Roth, Divergent (via simply-quotes)
![tastefullyoffensive:
[via]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m51rx3bJnE1qewacoo1_500.jpg)
I’VE REBLOGGED THIS 4 TIMES AND I’LL REBLOG IT AGAIN THIS IS TALENT
converted this to mp3 … welcome to itunes
holy fuck wow I’m speechless that’s so beautiful
This was fucking amazing!
If my kids aren’t this talented, I’m sending them back.
It’s back I’m happy.
can this please be a gpoy of my future children
oh my god
this is amazing
repeat
(Source: thedailywhat, via mockingjay-swift)
"
My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing
Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door
You make at home; deftly you steady
The drunk clambering on his undulant floor.
Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers’ terror,
Shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime
Yet leaping before apopleptic streetcars—
Misfit in any space. And never on time.
A wrench in clocks and the solar system. Only
With words and people and love you move at ease;
In traffic of wit expertly maneuver
And keep us, all devotion, at your knees.
Forgetting your coffee spreading on our flannel,
Your lipstick grinning on our coat,
So gaily in love’s unbreakable heaven
Our souls on glory of spilt bourbon float.
Be with me, darling, early and late. Smash glasses—
I will study wry music for your sake.
For should your hands drop white and empty
All the toys of the world would break.
— “Love Poem” by John Frederick Nims (via lemmanzest)
(via ler)
(Source: odairpeetas, via mynightmaresareaboutlosingyou)
(via this--too--shall--pass)
