Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar…

 William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury (via wordsnquotes)
untrustyou:

Jonathan Moyal 

It’s been a long time since I’ve been me.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet  (via wordsnquotes)

I no longer know if I wish to drown myself in love, vodka or the sea.

Grantaire, Book V  (via melisica)

(Source: incorrectlesmisquotes)

Nobody will ever love you as much as an artist can. On your worst days, they will find poetry in the knots of your hair.

That Could Have Been Me (k.p.k)

(Source: towritepoems)

neuromaencer:

original image by björn neumann

I still can’t believe I survived myself.

Michelle K., What Keeps Me Up at Night #131.  (via perfect)
breakfastwithgargoyles:

 

just-wanna-travel:

Varanasi, India
colstal:

theniftyfifties:

A couple necking in the backseat. New York, 1959. Photo by Bruce Davidson.

v╳c

It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

Jack Kerouac (via moaka)

(Source: aslovelyasatree)