We are not the dirt
we are planted in,

we are the light
and the water
we nourish ourselves from.

We are the flowers
we choose to be.
Pavana पवन (via maza-dohta)
You’ve got to use it, the pain. Use it as fuel to move past the torment, to the light at the end of the tunnel.
— Thomas E. Sniegoski, Aerie and Reckoning (via larmoyante)
In this love you are like a knife, with which I explore myself.
— Franz Kafka, Letter to Milena Jesenská (via thatkindofwoman)
We are sitting on your bed, there is distance between us and the silence is suffocating me. I am holding my knees to my chest. My body is shaking; you are quiet. I ask you if you still love me, and you tell me that you are not sure that you ever did.
— Mariah Gordon-Dyke, The Best, and the Worst Day (via larmoyante)
Don’t live the same year 75 times and call it a life.
— Robin Sharma (via theohpioneer)


you wrote your name on my heart in permanent marker but only let me write on yours in pencil

[Like these stones
that crumble back into earth.]
Like the sound of my voice
in your mouth.
— Paul Auster, from “Autobiography of the Eye” (via the-final-sentence)
Sometimes just being still is the best thing you can do for yourself.
— Silas House, Eli the Good (via larmoyante)