“It Is A Far, Far Better Thing That I Do, Than I Have Ever Done; It Is A Far, Far Better Rest That

“I think the most beautiful things on a human being are their eyes. You can see the age of their soul and the scars of their past. You can see the stars when they’re in love or the darkness of their hate. You can see the truth and the lies in their look, their heartbeat through their pupils and the art in their irises. That’s why you have to pay attention to the eyes of someone. It’s like a mirror of themselves. You can even see yourself if you ever meet a soulmate.”

— Excerpt from a book I’ll never write

“I’ve always liked quiet people: You never know if they’re dancing in a daydream or if they’re carrying the weight of the world.”

— John Green, Looking for Alaska

Head empty just Hozier songs, quiet woods, Caravaggio paintings, dark cathedrals, empty streets, Donna Tartt, red wine, overcoats, bitter cold, black coffee.

𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟸𝟽, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟻 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

turn off your phone, throw it in a lake, become unreachable

“Life was easy with you and it came so naturally. You were the extension of me and I would never need to finish my words, as who knew me better than you? You knew your place which was by my side. It is the little things that make the person and you would easily have kept me going for a lifetime. The way you would look at me with fire in your eyes showed me that I was the only one for you. You stole my heart and hid it away.”

— from Al Mujahid's letter to his wife

it sucks right now for both of us but one day we will be swaying in each other’s arm as the homemade stew we are making for dinner bubbles on the stove, the scent of love and warmth fills our cozy cottage that looks just like something from a fairytale.

— Mary Oliver, Entering the Kingdom

“…we can see ourselves turning into memories. We are these memories. As of this moment, we’ll remember each other as we’ll remember a distant world disappearing into a blueness more blue than it used to be. We’ll part in the pitch of longing.”

— Mahmoud Darwish, from Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (tr. Ibrahim Muhawi)

The moon had been observing the earth close-up longer than anyone. It must have witnessed all of the phenomena occurring - and all of the acts carried out - on this earth. But the moon remained silent; it told no stories. All it did was embrace the heavy past with a cool, measured detachment. On the moon there was neither air nor wind. Its vacuum was perfect for preserving memories unscathed. No one could unlock the heart of the moon.

— Haruki Murakami, 1Q84