February 2012
189 posts
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I must be a mermaid. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow...
– Anaïs Nin
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"I am tired of confiding in myself" excerpt
I have no one in whom to confide. My family understands nothing. My friends I cannot trouble with these things; I have no really intimate friends, and even were there one intimate, in world’s ways, yet he were not intimate in the way I understand intimacy. I am shy and unwilling to make known my woes. An intimate friend is one of my ideal things, one of my daydreams, yet an intimate friend...
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Cherish your solitude. Take trains by yourself to places you have never been....
– Eve Ensler
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birthed:
I love girls with skin like milk, a craving for calcium, wonderful hidden nymphatic rushes orbiting all of their moons. Their pink lips bloated with air where I’d rest my kisses. Pastel blue eyes - a watercolour between my sheets. Sweetest milky girls.
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Things I hold most dear: music, nature, poetry, solitude.
– Marina Tsvetayeva
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It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache...
– Oriah Mountain Dreamer
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What you are basically, deep, deep down, far, far in, is simply the fabric and...
– Alan Watts
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Reblog if you're a sex god from the high heavens.
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Don't worry about what religion or philosophy is...
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bruisedlamb:
lovely, shameful flower: too many lips have plucked at your petals and sucked from them the sweet silky nectar of your core.
I would like to leave behind the life I have at the moment and move to someplace new where it’s greener and the air is fresh. I would start my life over from there. And then later I’d pick up my life again and move and so on.
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Most people don’t know the answer to the question, “How are you? How do you...
– S.I. Hayakawa
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The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.
– Johann von Goethe
Do not watch the petals fall from the rose with sadness, know that, like life,...
– Anonymous
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أنا طائر غريب، لكنني لست حتى الطيور، وهذا أغرب جزء.
“I’m a strange bird, but i’m not even a bird, & that’s the strangest part”
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Roses are red,
And ready for plucking,
You’re sixteen,
And ready for high...
– Kurt Vonnegut
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