"…most of all, I’d like to have all the time there is just for you, for thinking about you, for breathing in you."

Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena (via armchairoxfordscholar)

(Source: hellanne)

Reblogged from armchairoxfordscholar, 1,998 notes, September 30, 2014

spoiled directionless man-child tomato plant


I found out that if you give your tomato plant adequate water and fertilizer you run the risk of it never flowering because consistently comfortable conditions convince the plant that there is no environmental pressure to spread and reproduce.

You can literally be a helicopter tomato parent and grow a spoiled directionless manchild tomato plant.

Reblogged from peachtulle, 37,195 notes, September 30, 2014

"How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words."

David Foster Wallace, The Pale King (via vartea)

(Source: larmoyante)

Reblogged from maggie-stiefvater, 15,814 notes, February 23, 2014


I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know.

Twilight is the border between day and night, and the shore is the border between sea and land. The border is longing: when both have fallen in love but still haven’t said anything. The border is to be on the way. It is the way that is the most important thing.


Tove Jansson (via journalofanobody)

Reblogged from journalofanobody, 35 notes, February 22, 2014

"Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness."

Katherine Henson   (via caliel)

(Source: )

Reblogged from journalofanobody, 231,641 notes, February 22, 2014


Pretty face, pretty heart.
They overlook the rest because
they think its okay to love me like charity.
My body is not a topic of
or a place they like to put their

My room is dark when they
come over
and I keep my shirt on,
scream “sorry!” when I come.

They never talk about me to their
I’m a secret that they pretend
to wear on their sleeve.
Such a pretty face, such a pretty
so quiet when she cries.
Makes it so easy to leave.

The door closes behind them
at 5 a.m and I check my skin
for signs of life,
for signs that someone has been there, and
I find nothing.
Not even the faintest ache of pain.
The mornings are spent remembering their hands
and imagining them around my throat, my arms, my ankles.

I have learned to let go of what
doesn’t want me.
Their names are quiet in my mouth.
I don’t even use them as excuses

I should probably thank them all
one day,
for leaving me so untouched
that bumping into you
felt like getting flattened
by a freight train.

Because, out of all the ghosts
who have come in and out of my bedroom,
you’re the only one who didn’t
leave the bed cold.
You’re the only one
who kept the lights on.


Caitlyn Siehl, Seven Confessions” (via alonesomes)

Reblogged from journalofanobody, 1,303 notes, February 22, 2014

"The need to go astray, to be destroyed, is an extremely private, distant, passionate, turbulent truth."

Georges Bataille (via freyjageist)

Reblogged from journalofanobody, 1,503 notes, February 22, 2014

"I myself am in a world I recognize as profoundly inaccessible to me."

Georges Bataille, The Unfinished System of Nonknowledge

[Bataille was a librarian]

(via mythologyofblue)

Reblogged from journalofanobody, 216 notes, February 22, 2014


My ‘world’ is parsimonious—a few
elements which
combine, like tricks of light, to
sketch the barest outline. But my
void is lavish, breaking
its frame, tempting me always to
turn again, again, for each
glimpse suggests more and more in some
other, farther emptiness.

—Kenneth Waldrop, from “Stone Angels,” (Ibstress Press, 1997)

Reblogged from journalofanobody, 75 notes, February 22, 2014

"We want to live like trees,
sycamores blazing through the sulfuric air,
dappled with scars, still exuberantly budding,
our animal passion rooted in the city."

Adrienne Rich, from 21 Love Poems (via violentwavesofemotion)

Reblogged from journalofanobody, 370 notes, February 22, 2014