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(Source: isaiahsucks, via sayyestotreats)
the self-indulgent ramblings and rebloggings of a hopeless romantic
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"Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."
Oscar Wilde (via sayyestotreats)
(Source: kalmiacedar, via sayyestotreats)
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A Tuesday Kind of Love →
“I want stories of strangers on the bus, of a child who looked lost but turned out not to be, of chance encounters with high school classmates because these seemingly colorless instances are meaningful when filtered through the eyes of someone I care about. A Tuesday kind of love, breathing relevance into otherwise monotonous moments.”
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my cousin tritia got married today. i felt simultaneously happy for her and terrified that i would never find that kind of partnership for myself. sometimes, i worry that i’ve spent my love too early and on the wrong people.
all the same, i had a fantastic time hanging out with my cousins. it was one of those nights in which i felt keenly aware of our familyness, of our being genetically from the same stock. i love being able to look around and see myself in others, and them in me.
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"You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You could swear, curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go."
F. Scott Fitzgerald (via sayyestotreats)
(Source: moviengquotes, via sayyestotreats)
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"How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours."
Wayne W. Dyer (via kari-shma)
(via quote-book)
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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.] 23,192 playsTom Hiddleston reads Bright Star by John Keats
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.(Source: lazyocean, via fuckyeahreading)
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