allstitchedinroses

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no more discourse everybody shut the fuck up and eat some bread

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Vincent van Gogh, The Complete Letters (“The sadness will last forever”)

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*picks up dog’s left paw* no wedding ring? interesting

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Nothing in the world is more common than unsuccessful people with talent, leave the house before you find something worth staying in for.

Banksy (via wordsnquotes)

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a bicycle is the acoustic version of a motorcycle 

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Imogen Cunningham’s early symbolist work (1910–12)

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I crave uncomplicated quiet, and the sky.

Marilyn Hacker, from Winter Numbers: Poems (via creatingaquietmind)

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Everyone wants to give a writer the perfect notebook. Over the years I’ve acquired stacks: One is leather, a rope of Rapunzel’s hair braids its spine. Another, tree-friendly, its pages reincarnated from diaries of poets who now sit in cubicles. One is small and black like a funeral dress, its pages lined like the hands of a widow. There’s even a furry blue one that looks like a shag rug or a monster that would hide under it— and I wonder why? For every blown out candle, every Mazel Tov, every turn of the tassel, you gift-wrap what a writer dreads most: blank pages. It’s never a notebook we need. If we have a story to tell, an idea carbonating past the brim of us, we will write it on our arms, thighs, any bare meadow of skin. In the absence of pens, we will repeat our lines deliriously like the telephone number of a parting stranger until we become the craziest one on the subway. If you really love a writer, [make love to her] her on a coffee table. Find a gravestone of someone who shares her name and take her to it. When her door is plastered with an eviction notice, do not offer your home. Say I Love You, then call her the wrong name. If you really love a writer, bury her in all your awful and watch as she scrawls her way out.

Megan Falley, “If You Really Love a Writer” (via wordsnquotes)

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Rain and tea and coffee

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living as nature lives Tom Persinger

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Details of foliage in the Unicorn Tapestries

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Love, being in love, isn’t a constant thing. It doesn’t always flow at the same strength. It’s not always like a river in flood. It’s more like the sea. It has tides, it ebbs and flows. The thing is, when love is real, whether it’s ebbing or flowing, it’s always there, it never goes away. And that’s the only proof you can have that it is real, and not just a crush or an infatuation or a passing fancy.

Aidan Chambers, This is All: The Pillow Book of Cordelia Kenn (via thelovejournals)

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At first, when we truly love someone, our greatest fear is that the loved one will stop loving us. What we should fear and dread, of course, is that we won’t stop loving them.

Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram (via thelovejournals)