virginiawoolf: aura-avis: What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over— like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode? - Langston Hughes (animaginaryfriend)
This is love, isn’t it? When you notice someone’s absence and hate that absence...– Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated (via thechocolatebrigade) (via paradoxicallyyours)
ireadintothings: Out of everything in my life, writing is the only thing that makes sense to me.
edithplath: Vampire Weekend - Oxford Comma
when by now and tree by leaf she laughed his joy and cried his grief bird by...– e.e. cummings (via paradoxicallyyours)
Life is good. People are kind. The weather is...