She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful.
stuck in that wandering place, the one between the edge of some cliff and the cliff wall that stands stark to my back, not a hold to be found, not a place to go. call it a ledge, shit that’s what it is, but I know no difference, because its a place I’ve found myself to many a time to count. every vine offering a way to safety is all but to fragile to hold weight, even the pond below visible with the ragged rocks just below the surface, such a tempting escape, the water I mean, but laced with such vigorous evil, a true paradox to the true fuckery of all things man. no where but down, no options but to fall. fall fall fall, nothing else, just fall.
In your life, you meet people. Some you never think about again. Some, you wonder what happened to them. There are some that you wonder if they ever think about you. And then there are some you wish you never had to think about again. But you do.
My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage.
Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic (via coffeeislovely)
Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.
I promise to plant kisses like seeds on your body, so in time you can grow to love yourself, as I love you
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.
Oscar Wilde (The Canterville Ghost)
(Source: seabois, via rabbits-foot)
