Read the Printed Word!

An insignificant bundle of stardust playing with words and ashes. I am always inconsolable. Hopefully you are too.

allmymetaphors:

IMPORTANT INFO FOR ARTISTS AND WRITERS!!!!

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Defining My Autonomy (For My Sisters)

bitchmemoirs:

(tw for mention of trauma/traumatic events)

The thing to remember is that you don’t belong to you. Not that you belong to anyone in particular, because that would be cruel, immoral even. People will admit that that sort of thing is abusive in interpersonal relationships. But above all, above…

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violentwavesofemotion:

Sylvia Plath, reading "The Stones" (x)

My mendings itch.There is nothing to do.
I shall be good as new.

"There will be a few times in your life when all your instincts will tell you to do something, something that defies logic, upsets your plans, and may seem crazy to others. When that happens, you do it. Listen to your instincts and ignore everything else. Ignore logic, ignore the odds, ignore the complications, and just go for it."
by Judith McNaught, Remember When (via petrichour)

(Source: wordsthat-speak)

"I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a
single word: Home.
"
by Mahmoud Darwish, from “I Belong There”, translated by Munir Akash and Carolyn Forché (via the-final-sentence)
"People in real life so often do not know what they want. People trick themselves, lie to themselves, fool themselves. It’s called survival, and self-mythology."
"People who are harder to love pose a challenge, and the challenge makes them easier to love. You’re driven to love them. People who want their love easy don’t really want love."
hoodoothatvoodoo:

A couple of students at the University take advantage of an early warm spring day.
Kansas 1948.

hoodoothatvoodoo:

A couple of students at the University take advantage of an early warm spring day.

Kansas 1948.

"I can think, because you’re on Earth. I can wake up and open the windowpane and look around and gain access to that very first impression of the morning light because you came back and you are here. You are here and I can finally breathe."
by Simone de Beauvoir, from Letters To Sartre (via petrichour)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)