Perk-Me-Ups

August 27, 2014 | 07:19 PM | 28,587 notes
August 27, 2014 | 07:08 PM |

Arrow 1

Bitterness seeps in through the wound that never got a chance to heal

Although you’ve spent all your money on plasters and balms

And tied your hands so you would not scratch at it

August 27, 2014 | 05:36 PM | 34 notes
handa:

Village de L’herbe, a photo from Aquitaine, West | TrekEarth
August 15, 2014 | 07:29 AM | 20,146 notes

elenamorelli:

{ wandering around lake braies }

(via creatingaquietmind)

August 15, 2014 | 07:28 AM | 1,557 notes
"I am only responsible for my own heart, you offered yours up for the smashing my darling. Only a fool would give out such a vital organ."

Anaïs Nin (via wordsnquotes)

(via eletheowl)

August 15, 2014 | 07:22 AM | 179,760 notes

tonystarktastic:

i-ll-be-mother:

Is Robert Downey Jr’s facebook even real?

It is. And I’ve seen his replies to people and just…he confirmed on Twitter that he runs that fucking facebook and I’m like “YOU!”

(via lololololoki)

August 15, 2014 | 07:19 AM | 141,222 notes

myvoicemyright:

Acid attack survivors in India model new clothing range for powerful photoshoot

Survivors of acid attacks in India have become the face of a new clothing range designed by a woman who had acid thrown in her face while she was asleep four years ago.Delhi-based designer Rupa and her friends Rita, Sonam, Laxmi and Chanchal modelled the clothes from her new range, Rupa Designs, for photographer Rahul Saharan.

Rupa suffered extensive injuries when her stepmother threw acid in her face while she was sleeping in 2008.

She was allegedly left without any medical aid for six hours before her uncle found her and transported her to hospital, where she underwent eleven operations and spent three months being cared for.

(via thepermeableboundary)

August 15, 2014 | 07:18 AM | 303,405 notes
"I feel nothing
or
I feel everything.
I don’t know which is worse."

2 am thoughts (via brokenboob)

(via eletheowl)

August 15, 2014 | 07:17 AM |

The First Instinct Never Changes

I am an owl that flies through by day

But comes alive at night, bright-eyed

Feeling the rush, the wind through the lights of the darkened 

This is the rhythm of the night, the night, oh yeah

No one taught me how to; 

I opened my eyes and my first cry

And love fell like invisible teardrops around me

And echoed off my growing bones

This is the rhythm of my life, my life, oh yeah

And sometimes, in the bright darkness,

I imagine shapes in my head to that rhythm

Shadowed, strong, swift 

Moving, spreading ‘till my body is but a shape

Moving

August 12, 2014 | 04:27 AM |
"…the effect of them on his life was immeasurable. There was a mystery about it. You were given a sharp, acute, uncomfortable grain- the actual meeting; horrible painful as often as not; yet in absence, in the most unlikely places, it would flower out, open, shed its scent, let you touch, taste, look about you, get the whole feel of it and understanding, after years of lying lost"

Mrs Dalloway; Virginia Woolf
August 12, 2014 | 04:25 AM |
"So that to know her, or any one, one must seek out the people who completed them; even the places. Odd affinities she had with people she had never spoken to, some woman in the street, some man behind a counter- even trees, or barns. It ended in a transcendental theory which, with her horror of death, allowed her to believe, or say that she believed (for all her scepticism), that since our apparitions, the part of us which appears, are so momentary compared with the other, the unseen part of us, which spreads wide, the unseen might survive, be recovered somehow attached to this person or that, or even haunting certain places, after death. Perhaps- perhaps."

Mrs Dalloway; Virginia Woolf
August 09, 2014 | 10:15 PM |
"By whether I’d have chosen quite like that if I could have known, thought Mrs Dempster, as could not help wishing to whisper a word to Maisie Johnson; to feel on the creased pouch of her worn old face the kiss of pity. For it’s been a hard life, thought Mrs Dempster. What hadn’t she given to it? Roses; figures; her feet too. (She drew the knobbed lumps beneath her skirt.)"

Mrs Dalloway; Virginia Woolf
August 09, 2014 | 10:04 PM |
"To love makes one solitary, she thought"

Mrs Dalloway; Virginia Woolf
August 09, 2014 | 03:12 AM | 45,975 notes

(Source: mrbenbrown, via anditslove)

August 09, 2014 | 03:12 AM | 1 note
"The world wavered and quivered and threatened to burst into flames. It is I who am blocking the way, he thought."

Mrs Dalloway; Virginia Woolf
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