n. a moment that seemed innocuous at the time but ended up marking a diversion into a strange new era of your life—set in motion not by a series of jolting epiphanies but by tiny imperceptible differences between one ordinary day and the next, until entire years of your memory can be compressed into a handful of indelible images—which prevents you from rewinding the past, but allows you to move forward without endless buffering.
Have the strength to be true to yourself even if you don't know who you are yet - Paulo Coelho
“
— “The Traitor Tongue and the Wellspring Heart”, Gabriel Gadfly (via commovente)
I do not know how to tell you
what I am feeling.
You ask, and
my tongue strangles itself.
It chokes itself silent.
Under my heart,
there is a wellspring
of things I wish I could
tell you, and my tongue
is the cork stoppering
them up. It is the sentinel
warden at the gate, letting
none of the prisoners through.
I wish I could drive a spile
under my ribs
and let it all pour out for you.
— “The Traitor Tongue and the Wellspring Heart”, Gabriel Gadfly (via commovente)
(via writingsforwinter)
n. the state or condition of unnoticed excellence—the hidden talents of friends and coworkers, the fleeting solos of subway buskers, the slapdash eloquence of anonymous users, the unseen portfolios of aspiring artists—which would be renowned as masterpieces if only they’d been appraised by the cartel of popular taste, who assume that brilliance is a rare and precious commodity, accidentally overlooking buried jewels that may not be flawless but are still somehow perfect.
“
I bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints, we’d only find yours.
— Rudy Francisco (via in-finitus)
— Rudy Francisco (via in-finitus)
(via writingsforwinter)
“
I wish I wrote the way I thought
Obsessively
Incessantly
With maddening hunger
I’d write to the point of suffocation
I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns
Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing
And I’d write about you
a lot more
than I should
— Benedict Smith / “I Wish I Wrote The Way I Thought” (via benedictsmith)
Obsessively
Incessantly
With maddening hunger
I’d write to the point of suffocation
I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns
Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing
And I’d write about you
a lot more
than I should
— Benedict Smith / “I Wish I Wrote The Way I Thought” (via benedictsmith)
(via acciotardis)
“
What
do sad people have in
common?
It seems
they have all built a shrine
to the past
And often go there
to do a strange wail and
worship.
What is the beginning of
happiness?
It is to stop being
so religious
like that.
— Stop Being So Religious
by Hafiz (via loveyourchaos)
do sad people have in
common?
It seems
they have all built a shrine
to the past
And often go there
to do a strange wail and
worship.
What is the beginning of
happiness?
It is to stop being
so religious
like that.
— Stop Being So Religious
by Hafiz (via loveyourchaos)
(Source: withnailrules, via loveyourchaos)
“
If Heaven remain unyielding,
I shall move Hell.
— Sigmund Freud quoting from the Aenid (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
I shall move Hell.
— Sigmund Freud quoting from the Aenid (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
“
Do not fall in love with people like me
we will take you to
museums and parks
and monuments
and kiss you in every beautiful
place so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting us
like blood in your mouth
—
we will take you to
museums and parks
and monuments
and kiss you in every beautiful
place so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting us
like blood in your mouth
—
(Source: nubesque, via loveyourchaos)
