I gave wrong people the right pieces of me.
― (via jakuzarskey)
I want to write a novel about silence. The things people don’t say.
― Virginia Woolf (via poetrea)
Isolation offered its own form of companionship: the reliable silence of her rooms, the steadfast tranquility of the evenings. The promise that she would find things where she put them, that there would be no interruption, no surprise. It greeted her at the end of each day and lay still with her at night.
― Jhumpa Lahiri, The Lowland (via bookmania)
I want to write poems on your skin with my lips.
― Eleven word story (via c0caine—kiss3s)
your skin
smells
like light.
i think you are
the
moon.
― nayyirah waheed  (via facina-oris)
If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.
― Unknown   (via upagainstthefuckingwall)