You wrote me a beautiful letter, — I wonder if you meant it to be as beautiful as it was. — I think you did; for somehow I know that your feeling for me, however slight it is, is of the nature of love. Nothing that has happened to me for a long time has made me so happy as I shall be to visit you sometime. — You must not forget that you spoke of that, — because it would disappoint me cruelly. I shall try to bring a few quite nice things with me; I will get together all that I can, and then when you tell me to come, I will come, by the next train, just as I am. This is not meekness, be assured; I do not come naturally by meekness; know that it is a proud surrender to you; I don’t talk like that to many people.
I was afraid
Not just love,
but to love her.
For she was a stunning
mystery. She carried things
deep inside her that no one
has yet to understand,
I was afraid to fail,
like the others.
She was the ocean
and I was just a boy
who loved the waves
but was completely
Despite what you’ve read, your sadness is not beautiful. No one will see you in the bookstore, curled up with your Bukowski, and want to save you.
for a salvation that will not come from the grey-eyed boy looking for an annotated copy of Shakespeare,
for an end to your sadness in Keats.
He coughed up his lungs at 25, and flowery words cannot conceal a life barely lived.
Your life is fragile, just beginning, teetering on the violent edge of the world.
Your sadness will bury you alive, and you are the only one who can shovel your way out with hardened hands and ragged fingernails, bleeding your despair into the unforgiving earth.Darling, you see, no heroes are coming for you. Grab your sword, and don your own armor.
A man contains all that is needed to make up a tree; likewise, a tree contains all that is needed to make up a man. Thus, finally, all things meet in all things, but we need a Prometheus to distill it.
—Cyrano de Bergerac (via observando)
I don’t love casually.
When I love, it’s fierce.
It’s my soul ripped
wide open and raw.
It’s my whole heart
It’s all I have and
everything I know,
handed over to you,
like a gift.
And I hope you
unwrap it gently.
“Yeah, sometimes life really sucks,” she says. “But you know what I’m holding on for?”
I raise my eyebrows.
She raises hers, too, mimicking me.
"The moments that don’t suck," she says. "The trick is to notice them when they come around.”
—Veronica Roth, Allegiant (via quotes-shape-us)
I hope your lungs break
And I want them to vanish
I want to be the last person
You say, ” I love you”
I don’t want your outer skin to shed
Every 27 days
I Want to be imprisoned onto your skin.
I hope your heart is decorated in thorns
When someone attempts to embrace their heart with yours.
Then they’ll know you are a deadly piece of shit.
And I hope they are not willing to get their heart fractured
Because your words have the ability of going from a nightmare to a happily ever after.
I know that you make me laugh, and that I love hearing your voice, especially when you sing. I know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day you sat down beside me at that coffee shop.
—Cora Carmack, Faking It (via quotes-shape-us)