Jul 22, 2014
186 notes
Jul 22, 2014
196,657 notes
and I’ll kiss you

tomorrow I’ll miss you
and I’ll kiss you
tomorrow I’ll miss you

(Source: o-p-i-a-t-e, via iwantbehappynomatteranythingelse)

Jul 22, 2014
20 notes
Nude figure, original photo: Fanny Francois by David Bellemere

Nude figure, original photo: Fanny Francois by David Bellemere

(Source: chicparadise2)

Jul 22, 2014
456 notes
go4photos:

Tawny Owl by Milan_Zygmunt


i think he knows magic

go4photos:

Tawny Owl by Milan_Zygmunt

i think he knows magic

(via raindropsonroses-65)

Jul 22, 2014
169 notes
t3chn0ir:

'Suddenly, thoughts started taking precedence over feelings. Thoughts and questions about life and love. And, as much as she tried to resist these ideas, she could not get them from her mind.'
Vicky Christina Barcelona (2008)

t3chn0ir:

'Suddenly, thoughts started taking precedence over feelings. Thoughts and questions about life and love. And, as much as she tried to resist these ideas, she could not get them from her mind.'

Vicky Christina Barcelona (2008)

Jul 22, 2014
1,523 notes
  Home is where one starts from.
 
As we grow older

The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated

Of dead and living. Not the intense moment 

Isolated, with no before and after,

But a lifetime burning in every moment

And not the lifetime of one man only

But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.

There is a time for the evening under starlight,

A time for the evening under lamplight

(The evening with the photograph album).

Love is most nearly itself

When here and now cease to matter.


Old men ought to be explorers

Here and there does not matter

We must be still and still moving

Into another intensity

For a further union, a deeper communion

Through the dark cold and empty desolation,

The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters

Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

T. S. Eliot
“East Coker,” from *The Four Quartets*
Home is where one starts from.

As we grow older
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.

Old men ought to be explorers
Here and there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

T. S. EliotEast Coker,” from *The Four Quartets*

(Source: n-ostalgio, via atgun)

Jul 22, 2014
8 notes
Jul 22, 2014
35 notes
Sex and Consequences

Sex and Consequences

Jul 22, 2014
3 notes
Jul 22, 2014
9 notes
Jul 22, 2014
5 notes
dunno who created this gif, but I love it

dunno who created this gif, but I love it

Jul 22, 2014
8 notes
Jul 22, 2014
2 notes
Jul 22, 2014
47 notes
Jul 22, 2014
825 notes

lohrien:

Illustrations by Olga Cuttell

(via crazycatlady781)

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“We cross borders lightly like clouds.
Nothing carries us, but as we move on we carry rain, and an accent, and a memory of another place.”
— Dunya Mikhail, from “Tablets,” in Poetry (Vol. CCIII, No. 6, March 2014)

Quote found at literarymiscellany.tumblr.com



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