The things she most wanted to tell him would lose their meaning the moment she put them into words.
Haruki Murakami (via hellanne)

My dear,
Find what you love and let it kill you.
Let it drain you of your all.
Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.
Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.
For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.

Charles Bukowski (via hellanne)

I knew that I was dying
something in me said, go ahead, die, sleep, become as
them, accept

then something else in me said, no, save the tiniest
bit
it needn’t be much, just a spark
a spark can set a whole forest on
fire
just a spark
save it.


Charles Bukowski (via hellanne)

h4ilstorm:

Deer with Magpies (by paulafrenchp)

fuckyouabigail:

“Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy. And ideas are bulletproof..”

principlesofaesthetics:

randomitus:

How long has it been since someone touched part of you other than your body?
Laurel Hoodwrit (via myhertsgard)

(Source: ineffablythoughtless)


One has to kill a few of one’s natural selves to let the rest grow — a very painful slaughter of innocents.
Henry Sidgwick  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: larmoyante)



sinandserotonin:

tell me the story
about how the sun
loved the moon so much
he died every night
to let her breathe




I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain to myself.




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