"She's Never Where She Is. She's Only Inside Her Head,"

Mary Oliver, “From the Book of Time”

Maggie Stiefvater, “Blue Lily, Lily Blue”

Sylvia Plath, “The Bell Jar”

Walt Whitman, “Leaves of Grass”

"That is why I write to try to turn sadness into longing, solitude into remembrance."

-Paulo Coelho

“The hours between 12am and 6am have a funny habit of making you feel like you’re either on top of the world, or under it.”

— Beau Taplin || the hours between.   (via exoticwild)

“Every water surface, velvet smooth, offers up that tormenting image, with the “ungraspable phantom of life” below it. Lean over. Look. What’s there? What’s on the other side of that smooth surface? Fathomless depths, total dark, the great yawn, the shadow, the gape, the frightening mess that’s easier to avoid. Look and look. The surface is penetrable, just slip on through, but you don’t come out, or maybe you just don’t come out the same.”

— Nina MacLaughlin, from “All This Blood and Love”, The Paris Review (via voirlvmer)

"One can never be too prepared for love."

- siyah

by touch, by smell.

i would know him blind—

i would know him in death.

"How many times did I die without noticing?"

~Mahmoud Darwish

“Do you remember a night when I came along the dark passage to your room in a thunderstorm and we lay talking about whether we were afraid of death or not? That is the sort of occasion on which the things I want to say to you,–and to you only,–get said.”

— Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West written c. June 1933

Shoda Koho, Moonlit Sea, c. 1920

I think I was just born with something dark and ugly inside of me.

Always waiting to be found out.