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(Source: theprinciplesofexistence, via theoldludwigvan)

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"I believed that I wanted to be a poet, but deep down I just wanted to be a poem."

—Jaime Gil De Bieda (via incisio)

(Source: light-essence, via ifwewerefeckless)

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Gosh.

The highest level of optimism seems to hit me in the morning with my first cup of coffee. More often than not I’m empty of any confident thought by nighttime. I would rather it be spread smoothly through each hour of the day, somewhat similar to the way your mother took care to make sure that peanut butter sandwich of yours was spot on for all those elementary school lunches. Wanna trade? Peanut butter with love for an anxiously bought greasy piece of pizza splayed on styrofoam? C’mon, there’s a carton of chocolate milk in it for you too. 

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(Source: hookedheart)

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(Source: sixtiesgroove, via thecarnabetianarmy)

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These ears are proof that I am, in fact, an elf. Elfin powers include sarcasm and consistent paranoia. I can make a mean baklava too. 

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(Source: emiliecharlottee, via arcticwhispers)

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thegirlcantdance: 

OH GOD WHERE CAN I GET THIS DRESS

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I’m already morning the loss of this bedroom. The morning ritual of a cup of coffee from a beloved screaming kettle, hushed into the kitchen’s largest mug (black with pink flamencos). To sink down into a spongy couch, a couch affectionate as furniture can be. To stare at the crystal knobs on the black surface of a bureau and be plainly and simply content. To refill that mug and sit again. To repeat as necessary.  

I wish I could take my room with me to stand as some pop-up lodging in London. God, I love this little room. 

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(Source: lilacid, via hookedheart)

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Four Month Sugar High

I’m beginning to catch a glimpse of what summer has in store. Many, many hours spent working with bits of spontaneity sprinkled here and there.  Something like the marshmallow’s in Lucky Charms. Do you think people buy Lucky Charms for lackluster rice pieces? Rice Crispies holds no argument here, that’s a whole different ballgame. We all know why the sugary stuff is bought. You guessed it, for the sugar- whimsical clover and balloon marshmallow shapes. Here’s to hoping for a whole mess of hearts, stars and rainbows inside my summer box of Lucky Charms. Hell, maybe even a prize.

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anneyhall:

Play It Again, Sam (1972)

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(Source: nevver, via yunzi)

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(Source: themodsquad-, via thecarnabetianarmy)

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twoheadedjest:

Allen Ginsberg-Europe! Europe!

“No man has loved perfectly no one.” 

(via fuckyeahbeatgeneration)

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