Now, I’m not going to deny that I was aware of your beauty. But the point is, this has nothing to do with your beauty. As I got to know you, I began to realize that beauty was the least of your qualities. I became fascinated by your goodness. I was drawn in by it. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. And it was only when I began to feel actual, physical pain every time you left the room that it finally dawned on me: I was in love, for the first time in my life. I knew it was hopeless, but that didn’t matter to me. And it’s not that I want to have you. All I want is to deserve you. Tell me what to do. Show me how to behave. I’ll do anything you say.

— Choderlos de Laclos (Dangerous Liaisons)

(Source: nagging, via ohhhkat)

eiknarf:

it happens to everyone as they grow up. you find out who you are and what you want, and then you realize that people you’ve known forever don’t see things the way you do. so you keep the wonderful memories, but find yourself moving on.

(via ohhhkat)

dru9s:

Emma fucking Stone and Ryan fucking Gosling. Perfect.
thirsst:

Take me here.
thirsst:

Take me here.
So many of us, when we leave our home countries, want to escape ourselves. We build up enormous webs of people, of bars and coffee shops, of arguments and exes and the same five places over and over again, from which we feel we can’t break free. There are just too many bridges that have been burned, or love that has turned sour and ugly, or restaurants at which you’ve eaten everything on the menu at least ten times — the only way to escape and to wipe your slate clean is to go somewhere where no one knows who you were, and no one is going to ask. And while it’s enormously refreshing and exhilarating to feel like you can be anyone you want to be and come without the baggage of your past, you realize just how much of “you” was based more on geographic location than anything else.

Chelsea Fagan (via farebellafigura)

(Source: thoughtcatalog.com, via farebellafigura)

dinahsays:

I can’t believe I still have this. I used to carry it around in my wallet with me, however one day I lost it. Somewhere, in the silent genius that I had, I snapped a picture of it and it has resurfaced on my computer. Love love love!


I’ve never loved a piece of text so much
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish it’s source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

— Anais Nin (via writeyourheart-out)

(Source: kari-shma, via writeyourheart-out)


Dirty Dancing (1987)
I missed you even when I was with you. That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing.

— Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close  (via beautyisanillusion)

(Source: literaturesluts, via wandertowonder)