"i spent my life folded between the pages of books. in the absence of human relationships i formed bonds with paper characters. i lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; i experienced adolescence by association. my world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. i am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction."
- Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me (via beryl-azure)
"i am conscious about myself and everything, and then suddenly, or slowly, my conscious fades out. switches off. and it’s not existing, and that’s a marvelous feeling. that from existing, i am not existing. and at that moment, nothing can happen to me."
- Ingmar Bergman
(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via budddha)
"her eyelids were painted blue.
when she closed her eyes the sea
rolled in like ten thousand fiery chariots,
leaving behind silence above and below
a thousand years old."
- Yusef Komunyakaa, Omens
"how rare, two lovers scribbling away,
admiring each other’s words in privacy."
- Maxine Kumin, Sonnets Uncorseted (via word-digest)
"between what is said and not meant
and what is meant and not said
most of love is lost"
- Khalil Gibran
(Source: larmoyante, via budddha)
"do, i love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you."
- Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
(Source: venula, via myinkstainedpalms)
"…my eyes were drawn to her perfect loveliness. i looked at her, a stranger, and every other breath strained to force its way from my chest. the legends say that the loved one is instantly recognized because she’s loved in every gesture, every expression of thought, every movement, every sound, and every mood that prays in her eyes. the legends say that we know her by her wings - the wings that only we can see - and because wanting her kills every other desire of love."
- Gregory David Roberts (via word-digest)
"no one knows
when she came
there was the whole earth in flame"
- H. D., A Dead Priestess Speaks
(Source: sketchofthepast, via myinkstainedpalms)
the dead heart
of a sparrow. A livid streak
the afternoon sky."
- Zbigniew Machej (Translation by Elzbieta Wojcik- Leese)
(Source: poetryofpoland, via myinkstainedpalms)