Charles Bukowski, "no Title," From What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through The Fire

can’t believe there’s going to be a new generation of pjo fans who automatically picture walker scobell when they think of percy jackson and not a hodgepodge of viria and burdge’s fanart. does that make me old

What I've learnt from the mirror,

Is if you stare too hard, you'll see a stranger.

There is something so comforting about sitting at libraries late at night with a candle, while you gulp the pages of a book with a hungry fervour. You are so lost in a different world, for a while nothing matters except for the pains of your character and you don't even realise it's dawn. You haven't moved an inch, your back aches, your eyelids are drooping, but you feel this contentment in your chest, and god I would give anything to bring that feeling back.

Our whole generation can feel these lines

"कितना आसान है ये कहना की मेरा कोई नही है

और कितना कठिन की मेरा कोई है"

~ सर्वेश्वर दयाल सक्सेना

Did this to my pen pal from Norway, I'm #so sorry.

life would be so different if i was a bookshop owner in a small village near some forest, who has a secret affair with the local poet

Why can't friendships be just about having a good time together?Sometimes it's the circumstances or it's people simply changing but for a while you were understood, someone laughed along at your stupid joke and someone could relate to you. Why isn't that enough and so when it's time to leave, we leave without the promise of forever because we already lived forever in those moments.

The heart is the toughest part of the body. Tenderness is in the hands.

(from Carolyn Forché's The Country Between Us)

Hands are unbearably beautiful. They hold on to things. They let things go.

- Mary Reufle -

Take my hands in your hands, teach me to remember, teach me not to remember.

(from H.D.'s piece, "Helen in Egypt")

My hands wanted to touch your hands because we had hands.

(from Frank Bidart's poem, In the Western Light)

We held hands.

I was wondering what it would be like to have a home of your own where you could come and go, where people would be welcome, where you would never be frightened again.

-Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal

Holding Hands- A Love Language

Temporariness of human existence

Charles Bukowski, "white dog," from What Matters Most is How Well You Walk through the Fire