Parents were the only ones obligated to love you; from the rest of the world you had to earn it.
~ Ann Brashares
(Source: justbesplendid)
April 12th, 2013
(Source: 40licks, via what-stars-are)
in the rain, the pavement shines like silver
(Source: wordsfromnature, via prettie-sweet)
April 11th, 2013
(via lajoiedespetiteschoses)
Willy Ronis
“A Poem Without an End” - Byron
Submitted by Giovi
(via thevirtualtypewriter)
When I open them, most of the books have the smell of an earlier time leaking out between the pages - a special odor of the knowledge and emotions that for ages have been calmly resting between the covers. Breathing it in, I glance through a few pages before returning each book to its shelf.
~ Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
April 10th, 2013
adronitis
n. frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone—spending the first few weeks chatting in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different anteroom, each a little closer to the center of the house—wishing instead that you could start there and work your way out, exchanging your deepest secrets first, before easing into casualness, until you’ve built up enough mystery over the years to ask them where they’re from, and what they do for a living.
