“Just looking at him could make me tremble. When he took my hand in his, the feeling caught me in the pit of my stomach–his hand was warm, protecting, and full of love. When he saw me at the beginning of the day and when he called me on the telephone, his first words were always, ‘Hello, Baby.’”—Lauren Bacall on Humphrey Bogart
i miss all the tension when all this is over i’m moving to ghana you sus and you watching me they used to be brown now them contacts is green why the fucks u finessing me i know how many licks it’ll take me to get to the center of ecstasy how come the ecstasy only depresses me so chemically I don’t have any new places to go every face looks pale when the seraton’ gets a lil low when they lower my coffin bet a few bitches jumpin in the hole few old ones that I left alone i never lie cus I don’t remember no tales cus it’s two heads even twelve got a lil forgiveness who do you love?
“I understand. That’s the trouble. I understand. I’ll understand all the time. All day and all night. Especially all night. I’ll understand. You don’t have to worry about that.”—Ernest Hemingway, Winner Take Nothing
“You messaged me out of the blue.
I wasn’t looking for anyone,
In fact I was too busy running from someone else,
But I slowed down enough to reply
You slowly became my good morning text,
My drunken phone call,
My tearful FaceTime when work had wrung me out like a dirty tea towel,
And you were there,
Always.”—FRS, Yes we met on tumblr, no she wasn’t a fifty year old man.
“She buried her ears into the calm of his heartbeat, and in a matter of seconds: fell terribly in love with the way her loneliness fell softly and suddenly, asleep, in his chest.”—Christopher Poindexter
“If you care about something enough, it’s going to make you cry. But you have to use it. Use your tears. Use your pain. Use your fear. Get mad.”—Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
“A month apart felt like a prison sentence. Pixelated pictures weren’t enough to make the heart stop hurting. Late night exchanges of words that should have been whispered as we laid, warm and united, in your bed. I started to lose myself, punching walls and breaking skin again. I longed for you to save me.”—Tim Neil, This Is What Love Feels Like
“I am scared of falling in love, of craving you every second of every day, of needing you, of being addicted to you. I am scared of missing you more than I can handle, of losing you and myself in you. I am scared of not being enough, and of seeing my insufficiency in your eyes.”—Romanshi, 05/05/14
“If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?”—
This line encapsulates the concept of a good kid in a bad city, and it cuts into one of the most moral questions in human existence: Can good come from evil? The best part about the line, as is true of the best poetry, is that it doesn’t answer the question it asks. For Kendrick’s immediate purposes, he’s the flower and the city is the dark room. The question is: Can you trust him?
“That was the thing. You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it’s reconciled, accepted - someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking.”—Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever
“The lover who leans upon the beloved’s response, his love is like the flame that needs oil to live; but the lover who stands on his own feet, is like the lantern of the sun that burns without oil.”—Hazrat Inayat Khan, The Dance of the Soul: Gayan, Vadan, Nirtan