INHALE. EXHALE. SIGH.
The three most beautiful women in the world to me? My mother, and her shadow, and her image in the mirror. by Khalil Jibran  (via thelittlephilosopher)

(Source: intheheartsofgreenbirds, via walkingondebris)

God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts. by Sylvia Plath (via emotional-algebra)

(via silencieusetruth)

Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough. by Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit (via hellanne)

(via lifeinpoetry)

connorkollenda:

San Diego,CA Perfecting
letargos:

desolate
I’m liberated and lost.
I feel. I shiver with fever. I’m I. by Fernando Pessoa  (via ig-narus)

(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via ig-narus)

All this talking, this rather liquid confessing, was something I didn’t think I could ever bring myself to do. It seemed foolhardy to me, like an uncooked egg deciding to to come out of its shell: there would be a risk of spreading out too far, turning into a formless puddle. by Margaret Atwood  (via ig-narus)

(Source: ntrvrts, via ig-narus)

Ah yes, my life’s a compromise — all a compromise. by Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry (via violentwavesofemotion)

(via amnabruno)

luges:

☾glow // indie☽
theme