This is not a haiku.
This is not a haiku.
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"I think… if it is true that
there are as many minds as there
are heads, then there are as many
kinds of love as there are hearts."
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina (via observando)
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"It’s easy for someone to joke about scars if they’ve never been cut."
William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet: Act 2, Scene 2  (via 5ft1)
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conflictingheart:

Suso33 in Madrid.
conflictingheart:

Suso33 in Madrid.
conflictingheart:

Suso33 in Madrid.
conflictingheart:

Suso33 in Madrid.
conflictingheart:

Suso33 in Madrid.
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"I don’t give a fuck what people think because people don’t think"

Kanye West (via irrealizm)

favorite Kanye quote in life.

(via tan7asia)

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"Make it happen. Shock everyone."
(via asdfghjkllove)
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"I’m half child half ancient."
Bjork on her age (via new-ancient)
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"Our memories are like a city: we tear some structures down, and we use rubble of the old to raise up new ones. Some memories are bright glass, blindingly beautiful when they catch the sun, but then there are the darker days, when they reflect only the crumbling walls of their derelict neighbours. Some memories are buried under years of patient construction; their echoing halls may never again be seen or walked down, but still they are the foundations for everything that stands above them.

“Glas told me once that that’s what people are, mostly: memories, the memories in their own heads, and the memories of them in other people’s. And if memories are like a city, and we are our memories, then we are like cities too. I’ve always taken comfort in that."
Tom Pollock, The City’s Son  (via letters-to-nobody)
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"If another poet asks about me, please don’t bring up the house fire or the blood or the records I scratched my name into. Cover up the smell of the dying flowers with forgiveness. With second chances. I left myself behind this time, and asked you to come back for me. I am sorry for all those nights I blamed you. The bravest parts of me told you to leave. The bravest parts of me did not hate you when you listened. Your initials don’t belong carved into the trees here anymore. If anyone tries to tell this story, they will choke on it like a cherry pit. They will choke on it like it was the inevitable ending that came too soon. If the wind shows up here, ask her if she lost anything in that storm. Maybe then you’ll understand why she had to take it all from you."
Y.Z, The summer we almost loved each other (via dwsc)
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"i am mine.
before i am ever anyone else’s."
in, nayyirah waheed     (via fuckinq)