I suppose it is good for the soul to be hurt and perplexed perpetually. I know...– Vita Sackville-West in a letter to Virginia Woolf, 9 February 1927 (via courcel)
Self-Portrait with Her Hair on Fire
softcollapse: Now, it is as dark as the pathos of pushing a wheel- Chair through the museum of a great metropolis. I cannot tell you this, not now, not ever, even In the letter I have written that is so epic That if you were to open it, the pages would sail out In the wind like confection moths being born In the thousands out of their sacks, blowing Away, page by page, in a wind the color of her...
Nothing can wear you out like caring about people.– S.E. Hinton (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
I’d woken up early and I took a long time getting ready to exist.– The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa via fuckyeahexistentialism * delicateswans (via frenchtwist) til noon at least… (via mudwerks)
I am not the first person you loved. You are not the first person I looked at...– Clementine von Radics, Mouthful of Forevers (via peppermintpatteee)
I love her for what she has dared to be, for her hardness, her cruelty, her...– Anaïs Nin (via seabois)
Yet no matter how deeply I go down into myself my God is dark, and like a...– Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Book of Hours (via mirroir)