violentwavesofemotion:

“I keep thinking, thinking, and my thoughts are all sick, and my head is sick.”

— Fyodor Dostoevsky, from Stories; “The Meek One,” written c. 1876

(via sadillite)

liquidlightandrunningtrees:

“I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece.”

— Emil Cioran, On The Heights Of Despair

(via unspokengrief)

s-unberry:

“I know what love is and I know how it feels to be in love. What I don’t know is what being loved feels like; to be loved by someone, and to know that they are scared to lose me, just like I am to lose them.”

— will i ever experience that?, a.n. (via wnq-writers)

(Source: wnq-writers.com, via s-unberry)

gingerbronson:

“I was born anew, owner of my own darkness.”

— Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets: LVI

(via conceptvals)

(Source: words-and-coffee, via unspokengrief)

thecartierrug:

@yulia_burmi

(via yamtakeover)