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I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower’s stem. Diana Gabaldon (via quotemadness) 1,079 notes
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inneroptics: “ Kenneth Josephson ”

inneroptics:

Kenneth Josephson

I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower’s stem. Diana Gabaldon (via quotemadness) 1,079 notes
Mais, le pire, quand on habite une prison sans barreaux, c'est qu'on n'a pas même conscience des écrans qui bouchent l'horizon; j'errais à travers un épais brouillard, et je le croyais transparent. Les choses qui m'échappaient, je n'en entrevoyais même pas la présence. Simone De Beauvoir, Mémoires d’Une Jeune Fille Rangée. 22 notes
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bobdylan-n-jonimitchell: ““James Baldwin, Joan Baez, and James Forman, on the March from Selma to Montgomery, 1965. ” ”

bobdylan-n-jonimitchell:

James Baldwin, Joan Baez, and James Forman, on the March from Selma to Montgomery, 1965.

Everyone you meet always asks if you have a career, are married or own a house; as if life was some kind of grocery list. But nobody ever asks if you are happy. Heath Ledger (via we-the-dreamers) 46,861 notes
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sektvmsempra:

If you’re just safe about the choices you make, you don’t grow.

Grief feels like the aftermath of a slap. The element of surprise is gone but the pain still echoes. It vibrates throughout your body. It crushes you in waves and there is really nothing you can do about it. 

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Les photos, elles, me fascinent, elles sont tellement le temps à l'état pur. Je pourrais rester des heures devant une photo, comme devant une énigme. Annie Ernaux, L’écriture comme un couteau (via chateauxdesable) 33 notes
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oldhollywoodcinema: “ Buster Keaton (1920′s) “Silence is of the gods; only monkeys chatter.” ”

oldhollywoodcinema:

Buster Keaton (1920′s)

“Silence is of the gods; only monkeys chatter.”

Coming back

I can’t escape what could have been. The chances that I wanted to take but that were robbed from me. I miss her. This girl I used to be. This girl who was happy and loved. I ran away from the comfort of my own home. I took the big jump. Not looking back. And how spectacular it was! 

They tell you the hardest part is to jump, to make the decision to let go. But they never talk about how to live after you’ve made that jump. I found myself at the bottom of that cliff. The descend was marvellous. I felt alive, so alive, like never before. I found out things about myself I never thought I would. I was freer than I’ve ever been before. But now… 

Now I feel empty. My heart, my arms, my everything is trying to hold on to that beauty, to that life I loved living, but only catching air. Why don’t they tell you that the most difficult part, the most sinister one, isn’t to make the decision to let go but to learn how to live once this is over. I wish I knew what to do with myself in that in-between-time, that sad and sterile nonsense. I want to jump again, but in the meanwhile what to I do? 

This feeling of emptiness that comes after a long period of happiness is breaking my heart. I feel it for the first time ever. Boys, girls, whatever. This is mourning. This is pain: knowing how happy you can be and yet not being able to feel that way again. Before this adventure I didn’t really know what happiness was, and how it can truly impact your life. But now I know. I also know that I’ve lost it. And that hurts the most.  

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Vuoi bene per tutta la vita a persone che non sai mai veramente chi sono. Elena Ferrante, Storia del nuovo cognome, l’amica geniale 52 notes
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bravagente: “Eduardo Scarpetta for Vanity Fair ”

bravagente:

Eduardo Scarpetta for Vanity Fair

Quand je dis tout bas la beauté du monde
Je parle de toi Louis Aragon, Elsa
(via fin-de-partie) 1,624 notes