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So what does she know about love? Nothing. You should have it. You should get it. It’s nice. But what is it?
Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath
(via violentwavesofemotion)
Honestly
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Ur pride makes it hard for u to be a friend, I get that
ur absence makes it hard for me to remember why I liked you in the first place
Mmmmmmmm ya It happens like that
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R.I.P Catherine Coulson aka The Log Lady
We will miss you :(
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Issa Lish / Vogue Italia april 2014 “Horror Story" by Steven Meisel
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I want
Love when I want it
Rest when I want it
Food when I want it
Drink when I want it
Drugs when I want it
The rest is bullshit
I am now going out
to get some sun & worry
where my soul is going
& what to do…
Jack Kerouac, from Book Of Sketches
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I love with such ferocity that it kills me when the object of my love shows by a phrase that he can escape. He escapes, and I am left clutching at a string that slips in and out among the leaves on the tree-tops. I do not understand phrases.
Virginia Woolf, from The Waves
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!!!!!!!!!!!
Aya Jones behind the scenes of Calvin Klein
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Her eyes do not change color when
he tells her he struck his woman
once. Maybe it’s because she dug for it
and he admits this so plainly,
without excuse. Or maybe
because they are still in bed, and she is
ensconced in plumes of purple silk.
They curve into bookends, hands drifting
over one another’s feet and tomes of poetry.
In three years, he will still call her, Lover,
on the phone, will say he understands
why she needed to overturn the bookshelf,
how the wall asked for that hole,
why her dishes needed to hurl to the floor,
how her father’s temper sprung sudden
from her temples like bright voodoo pins,
why she dialed an old flame and not her mother.
His tongue will hum—ever a hive of bees,
Remember how you cracked open my
ribs and found what was lodged there?
She will say, It certainly wasn’t honey.
He will say, And yet, you keep coming
back for more.
Bianca Spriggs, All That Glitters
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With a deep, visceral ache, she wished her true form might prove to be a sleek and shining one, like a stiletto blade slicing free of an ungainly sheath. Like a bird of prey losing its hatchling fluff to hunt in cold, magnificent skies. That she might become something glittering, something startling, something dangerous.
Laini Taylor, Lips Touch: Three Times
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Lust for Youth
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My era tells me bluntly:
You do not belong.
I answer bluntly:
I do not belong,
I try to understand you.
Now I am a shadow
Lost in the desert
And shelter in the tent of a skull.
Adonis, from The Desert: The Diary of Beirut Under Siege
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