“I Think The Most Beautiful Things On A Human Being Are Their Eyes. You Can See The Age Of Their Soul

“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

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— Mikko Harvey,“For M”

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I have drunken deep of joy, and I will taste no other wine tonight.

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I imagine what it must be like to stay hidden, disappear in the dusky nothing and stay still in the night. It’s not sadness, though it may sound like it. I’m thinking about people and trees and how I wish I could be silent more, be more tree than anything else, less clumsy and loud, less crow, more cool white pine, and how it’s hard not to always want something else, not just to let the savage grass grow.

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“If someday the moon calls you by your name don’t be surprised, because every night I tell her about you.”

— Shahrazad al-Khalij

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what do you mean i can't spend all day listening to music and reading old conspiracy theories whilst ignoring any human interaction? bitch leave me alone tf

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“I am going to marry somebody that makes me feel like a poem.”

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Dear Milena,

I wish the world were ending tomorrow. Then I could take the next train, arrive at your doorstep in Vienna, and say: “Come with me, Milena. We are going to love each other without scruples or fear or restraint. Because the world is ending tomorrow.” Perhaps we don’t love unreasonably because we think we have time, or have to reckon with time. But what if we don't have time? Or what if time, as we know it, is irrelevant? Ah, if only the world were ending tomorrow. We could help each other very much.

― Franz Kafka

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3 years ago

Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.

— Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

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