We are the universe’s understanding of itself.
— Carl Sagan (via oberholtzer)
I don’t just want your heart. I want your flesh, your skin and blood and bones, your voice, your thoughts, your pulse and most of all your fingerprints, everywhere.
— Isobel Thrilling (via extraterrestris)
His hands.
If I find a man attractive, I will look at his hands and wonder about them. How they might look gripping his cock or palming my pubic bone or cupped around my breasts. I wonder about his fingers. How they would feel grazing my clit were he to slide them inside me. How they would taste once they were dipped in my cum.
I try not to stare, but I can’t help but wonder.
Yes.
Just got out of a meeting.
News: bad.
Forecast: uncertain.
Shit: fucked up.
— Magnificent Ruin (via nevver)
It’s absolutely unnerving how two strangers can transform into lovers, only to become strangers again in the end.
No, we weren’t lovers, but in a way we had opened ourselves to each other even more deeply than lovers do. The thought caused me a good deal of grief. What a terrible thing it is to wound someone you really care for - and to do it so unconsciously.
— Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via nicollecamille)
If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine. It is lethal.
— Paulo Coelho (via musingsinfemininity)
And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn’t really change the fact that you have what you have.
— The Perks of Being A Wallflower (via wthellmichelle)
Sometimes when you meet someone, there’s a click. I don’t believe in love at first sight but I believe in that click.
— ~Ann Aguirre, Blue Diablo (via armchairoxfordscholar)
For the ancients, poetry socialized people; for the moderns, it reflects or promotes alienation.
— Michael Schmidt /The First Poets (via anticipatedstranger)
