"Everything fell apart in me. How are things with you?"


undr:

On reading, André Kertész 
"I have wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but somehow I am still in love with life."

-Voltaire, Candide: or, Optimism  (via mademoiselsie)

(Source: wordsnquotes.com)


qock:

Balgoijseweg, Wijchen, The Netherlands
"Often, when we have a crush, when we lust for a person, we see only a small percentage of who they really are. The rest we make up for ourselves. Rather than listen, or learn, we smother them in who we imagine them to be, what we desire for ourselves, we create little fantasies of people and let them grow in our hearts. And this is where the relationship fails. In time, the fiction we scribble onto a person falls away, the lies we tell ourselves unravel and soon the person standing in front of you is almost unrecognisable, you are now complete strangers in your own love. And what a terrible shame it is. My advice: pay attention to the small details of people, you will learn that the universe is far more spectacular an author than we could ever hope to be."

-Beau Taplin || The fiction of people.  (via bonhivers)

(Source: afadthatlastsforever)


"If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next — if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions — you’d be doomed. You’d be as ruined as God. You’d be a stone. You’d never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You’d never love anyone, ever again. You’d never dare to."

-Margaret Atwood, from The Blind Assassin (via violentwavesofemotion)

"I wish somebody had told me that loving people, knowing how to love those people, and those people loving you back were three entirely different things."

- Della Hicks-Wilson (via xzying)

(Source: psych-facts)


procit:

bez hlubšího vysvětlení nacházím zalíbení v určitých věcech možná jen proto, že se líbí někomu mnou milovanému, a to mě nepřestává ohromovat 

mccartneymadness:

A Hard Day’s Night, 1964

"A thousand Dreams within me softly burn."

-Arthur Rimbaud (via misswallflower)