Life from the Alder Grove.
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I had a dream that you basked in silver sunshine with me in a field of golden dandelions. You whispered lovely things to me while petals concealed our presence. Clouds formed castles in an oil paint sky and your eyes gleamed as stars do.
You are a heavenly human being and I bless the soil for…
"posterity, n.
I try not to think about us growing old together, mostly because I try not to think about growing old at all. Both things — the years passing, the years together — are too enormous to contemplate. But one morning, I gave in. You were asleep, and I imagined you older and older. Your hair graying, your skin folded and creased, your breath catching. And I found myself thinking: If this continues, if this goes on, then when I die, your memories of me will be my greatest accomplishment. Your memories will be my most lasting impression." — David Levithan, The Lover’s Dictionary (via danseurs)
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I try not to think about us growing old together, mostly because I try not to think about growing old at all. Both things — the years passing, the years together — are too enormous to contemplate. But one morning, I gave in. You were asleep, and I imagined you older and older. Your hair graying, your skin folded and creased, your breath catching. And I found myself thinking: If this continues, if this goes on, then when I die, your memories of me will be my greatest accomplishment. Your memories will be my most lasting impression." — David Levithan, The Lover’s Dictionary (via danseurs)
"After playing Chopin, I feel as if I had been weeping over sins that I had never committed, and mourning over tragedies that were not my own. Music always seems to me to produce that effect. It creates for one a past of which one has been ignorant, and fills one with a sense of sorrows that have been hidden from one’s tears." — Oscar Wilde (via iceshores)
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(via corsieur)
You remind me of the wind- its gentle, pellucid fingers caressing me, softening the hard calluses of my skin, warming me up with a quick flutter of its butterfly wings. I am dreamy and lonesome once again. I love the way it fingers with my tousled hair, twirling its entangled strands, leaving them…
"I’ve no light in me
but that I reflect of you.
You are stars to me." — Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)
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but that I reflect of you.
You are stars to me." — Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)
(via baileysays)
“I want to fall in love,” Her voice drifted from the window sill and pinned itself, smokey and quiet, to my clothing. I rubbed my fingers over the fabric of my night shirt. She was hanging out in the night air again, kissing stars and dreaming up kingdoms. Her hair twirled itself in knots and…
"It’s not as if I don’t have anything to read; there’s a tower of perfectly good unread books next to my bed, not to mention the shelves of books in the living room I’ve been meaning to reread. I find myself, maddeningly, hungry for the next one, as yet unknown. I no longer try to analyze this hunger; I capitulated long ago to the book lust that’s afflicted me most of my life." — Lewis Buzbee, The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop (via prettybooks)
(via girlwithoutwings)
