wintersscoffee

[wintersscoffee]

Rabindranath Tagore, The Home and the World

[wintersscoffee]

 "In the deepest slumber -- no! In delirium -- no! In a swoon -- no! In death -- no! even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for man. " - Edgar Allan Poe, The Pit and the Pendulum

[wintersscoffee]

I just watched Dave carry his favourite little horsie toy to the window, place it on his pillow, then settle down to look outside together

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��� i exist. in thousands of agonies, i exist” - Fydor Dostoyevsky

[wintersscoffee]

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

[wintersscoffee]

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

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Mary Oliver, from a poem titled "The Crows," featured in New & Selected Poems of Mary Oliver

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Poetry is what helps me remember that even in my fragments, I am whole.

- Jennifer Huang

[wintersscoffee]

In the depths of every heart there is a tomb and a dungeon, though the lights, the music and revelry, above may cause us to forget their existence and the buried ones or prisoners whom they hide.

-The Haunted Mind, Nathaniel Howthome

[wintersscoffee]

Coffee making can very well be an insightful process. Brewing coffee for too long will make it bitter, too soon might make it tasteless. One must know when to stop and when not to quit. Know your taste and make that cup that is just right for you.

[wintersscoffee]

@academia-lucifer

[wintersscoffee]

I am such an Autumn person. Give me a quiet, cozy spot with a view of the changing trees on a crisp, late September day with a warm drink and a good book and I will be in all my glory.

[wintersscoffee]

Preparing for autumn is like careful nesting. Collecting pumpkin spice scented candles, rearranging your bookshelf, making a vision board, taking out your favourite full-sleeved blouse to pair it with your checkered beige and brown pants, the coffee you like turning from Iced Americano to Hot Hazelnut Latte. All these are prepared, and now you wait for the sky to assume the sombre colour of grey. A tune of melancholy and anticipation ringing somewhere in the vicinity.

[wintersscoffee]

"But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingures running upon the wires." - James Joyce, Araby, Dubliners