(via uminuscula)
(Source: luzfosca, via c-apitalist)
Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
—Plato (via weepling)
(Source: mycolorbook, via weepling)
The only escape, I think, is to work the mind.
—Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry dated 11 March 1930 (via dustyshelf)
(Source: fuckyeahvirginiawoolf, via uminuscula)
The only escape, I think, is to work the mind.
—Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry dated 11 March 1930 (via dustyshelf)
(Source: fuckyeahvirginiawoolf, via uminuscula)
(via percevoir)
(via teachingliteracy)
(Source: lullaby-suicide, via alekaa)
(Source: artandcommerceorg, via modernhepburn)
