my heart was left by the sea...

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night ~ We talked between the Rooms ~ Until the Moss had reached our lips ~ And covered up our names~

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)I am never without it (anywhere
I go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)
I fear no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet)I want no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart).

—   e.e. cummings (via observando)

“While gazing at myself from yourself, I was beautiful.”

—   Dejan Stojanovic, The Shape (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

(via lifeinpoetry)

hemmelig-oy:

untitled by iamsoria on Flickr.

hemmelig-oy:

untitled by iamsoria on Flickr.

(via faultes)

“You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.”

—   Khalil Gibran, The Prophet (via observando)
felibre:

Midtown intersection, NYC. 
Watching the pace and flow of New York City from above is amazing. The constant stream of yellow taxis lining the avenues, the waves of pedestrians hurriedly crossing with the change of traffic signals, little figures disappearing into and emerging from the subway stations, the chorus of honking horns and sirens. It’s all so rhythmic and strangely soothing to watch.
Navid Baraty

felibre:

Midtown intersection, NYC.

Watching the pace and flow of New York City from above is amazing. The constant stream of yellow taxis lining the avenues, the waves of pedestrians hurriedly crossing with the change of traffic signals, little figures disappearing into and emerging from the subway stations, the chorus of honking horns and sirens. It’s all so rhythmic and strangely soothing to watch.

Navid Baraty

(via almostvintage)

“I have stitched life into me like a rare organ.”

—   Sylvia Plath, “Three Women,” from The Collected Poems (via lifeinpoetry)

“such a minute fraction of this life do we live: so much is sleep, tooth-brushing, waiting for mail, for metamorphosis, for those sudden moments of incandescence: unexpected”

—   Sylvia Plath, letter to Siegfried Sassoon written 15 January 1956,The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via lifeinpoetry)

“I close myself over, deaf as an eye,
deaf as a wound, which listens

to nothing but its own pain:
Get out of here.
Get out of here.”

—   Margaret Atwood, from Circe/Mud Poems (via lifeinpoetry)
nylonpinksy:

Needs a source.

nylonpinksy:

Needs a source.

(via almostvintage)

“If you can see a future without me and that doesn’t break your heart then we’re not doing what I thought we were doing here.”

—   That 70’s Show (via temperare-te)

(via ca1ifornia-paradise)