I have the mind of a child
Asking, why is 2 + 3 always equal to 5?
Where do people go to when they die?
What made the beauty of the moon?
And the beauty of the sea?
Did that beauty make you?
Did that beauty make me?
Will that make me something?
Will I be something?
Am I something?



And the answer comes: you already are, you always, always were, and you still have time to be.

Anis Mojgani, “Here Am I” [x] (via larmoyante)
If the front door of my heart is locked and you need to get in… break a window. We can clean it up later.
Shane Koyczan (via quotes-for-reference)
I NEED SCRABBLE BUDDIES

You guys should play me in words with friends! My username is: sabrinamireles

thepianofarm:

We should all like nice giants. We should all be nice giants. 
humansofnewyork:

"Do you have any advice for other fishermen?""You have to sneak up on them and catch them real fast. And you have to wear boots. I once caught a monster fish that went all the way up to the sky like a giant. I like giants. But not mean giants. I like nice giants."

thepianofarm:

We should all like nice giants. We should all be nice giants. 

humansofnewyork:

"Do you have any advice for other fishermen?"
"You have to sneak up on them and catch them real fast. And you have to wear boots. I once caught a monster fish that went all the way up to the sky like a giant. I like giants. But not mean giants. I like nice giants."


No matter how many times I see this, the last two lines always take my breath away

No matter how many times I see this, the last two lines always take my breath away

nyupanties:

im aiming for the “shes a badass and cute as hell but I wouldn’t touch her without asking” look

#tbt I was the tiniest dancer

#tbt I was the tiniest dancer

I’m saying your name on
the bridge at dawn. Your name like an animal
covered with frost, your name like a music that’s
been transposed, a suit of fur, a coat of mud,
a kick in the pants, a lungful of glass, the sails
in wind and the slap of waves on the hull
of a boat that’s sinking to the sound of mermaids
singing songs of love, and the tug of a simple
profound sadness when it sounds so far away.
Richard Siken, “Saying Your Name.” (via literarymiscellany)

ART HISTORY MEME; 9 paintings:
Still Life with White Roses, Vincent van Gogh [4/9]

What’s the kindest thing you almost did? Is your fear of insomnia stronger than your fear of what awoke you? Are bonsai cruel? Do you love what you love, or just the feeling? Your earliest memories: do you look though your young eyes, or look at your young self? Which feels worse: to know that there are people who do more with less talent, or that there are people with more talent? Do you walk on moving walkways? Should it make any difference that you knew it was wrong as you were doing it? Would you trade actual intelligence for the perception of being smarter? Why does it bother you when someone at the next table is having a conversation on a cell phone? How many years of your life would you trade for the greatest month of your life? What would you tell your father, if it were possible? Which is changing faster, your body, or your mind? Is it cruel to tell an old person his prognosis? Are you in any way angry at your phone? When you pass a storefront, do you look at what’s inside, look at your reflection, or neither? Is there anything you would die for if no one could ever know you died for it? If you could be assured that money wouldn’t make you any small bit happier, would you still want more money? What has been irrevocably spoiled for you? If your deepest secret became public, would you be forgiven? Is your best friend your kindest friend? Is it any way cruel to give a dog a name? Is there anything you feel a need to confess? You know it’s a “murder of crows” and a “wake of buzzards” but it’s a what of ravens, again? What is it about death that you’re afraid of? How does it make you feel to know that it’s an “unkindness of ravens”?
Jonathan Safran Foer, Two Minute Personality Test. (via meganfalley)
It’s just that I coulda swore
you had sung me a love song back there
and that you meant it
but I guess sometimes people just chew with their mouth open
so I ate ear plugs alive with my throat
hoping they’d get lodged deep enough inside the empty spots
that I wouldn’t have to hear you leaving.
Buddy Wakefield. (via accio-cosima)
Let me tell you what I do know: I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multi-vocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper. I didn’t want to write these pages until there were no hard feelings, no sharp ones. I do not have that luxury. I am sad and angry and I want everyone to be alive again. I want more landmarks, less landmines. I want to be grateful but I’m having a hard time with it.
Richard Silken (via aplethoraofquotations)
Hello darling, sorry about that.
Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we
lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell
and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.
Especially that, but I should have known.
You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together
to make a creature that will do what I say
or love me back.
from Richard Siken’s Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out  (via sweet-sehun)

You do this, you do.

You take the things you love and tear them apart
or you pin them down with your body and pretend they’re yours.

Richard Siken, from A Primer For The Small Weird Loves (via violentwavesofemotion)

The Book Thief - The Standover Man