Latest Posts by moonandnightss - Page 2

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

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

it’s just me and my four hundred unread books against the world i guess

I want to write. I have ideas. I open document. I type four of the worst sentences ever created in the english language. I daydream the rest of the scene. I close document.

“He repeated her name over and over again. The birds that were singing in the dew-drenched garden seemed to be telling the flowers about her.”

— Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

People. People. Endless noise. And I am so tired. And I would like to sleep under trees; red ones, blue ones, swirling passionate ones.

— Fyodor Dostoevsky, from Complete Prose Collection; “The Brothers Karamazov”

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.

– Ada Limón, Bright Dead Things

“I need to stop fantasizing about running away to some other life and start figuring out the one I have.”

— Holly Black; The Darkest Part of the Forest

I see many people saying “omg other people my age have kids and I am here with my life in shambles”; 

and I think: 

There is no one way to be a mushroom. Have you seen how fucked up they are? How god-ignorant and wild? Listen to the mushroom wisdom. 

Do whatever stirs your soul.

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.

“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”

― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Oscar Wilde

"death must be so beautiful. to lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. to have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. to forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace. you can help me. you can open for me the portals of death's house, for love is always with you, and love is stronger than death is"

I’m really bad at conversations sorry if I’ve ever talked to you

this pandemic will end and you’ll claim the window seat in your favorite cafe, stand in a crowd at a concert, visit a museum and make crappy art in the park. sometimes things feel like they’ll go on forever, sometimes bad things feel heavier than good things, sometimes life feels like it’s slowing down and all you’re doing is waiting for the full stop— but just because this hopelessness is all that you’re feeling right now, doesn’t mean that it’s all there is. there’s always more and you will experience that, and you will feel alive again.

|Life in the forest|

people are bad and all but when a stranger holds open a door for you and when a stranger picks up something you dropped and when a stranger smiles at you from across the street and when a stranger on a hike wishes you good morning and when a stranger hands you a rose and when a stranger lets you have their seat and when a stranger stops you to compliment your outfit and when a stranger gives you the 5 cents you’re missing and when a stranger jams their foot in the tram door so you can make it and when a stranger says bless you when you sneeze and when a stranger helps you with directions and when a stranger gets you something from the top shelf and when a stranger offers you a piece of watermelon in the park and when a stranger wishes you happy birthday because you’re holding a balloon.. maybe we are worth saving

Virginia Woolf〡Selected Prose; Mrs Dalloway

— Richard Siken, from Crush (via lunamonchtuna)

not to be all [i love you till my breathing stops i love you till you call the cops on me] [it’s rotten work not to me not if it’s you] [i can take care of myself just fine. no. what do you mean no? no] [one word from you and i would jump off of this ledge i’m on baby] [i will do anything whatever she wants] [is that too much to expect? that i would name the stars for you?] [you want to die for love you always have] [love for you is not like the usual romantic love. it’s like a religion. it’s terrifying] but i want a love full of devotion

People my age are out, flirting, parting, having fun with friends.. I’m in my room looking at the ceiling while listening to soft music, considering my life all night long

-I’m gonna regret this when I’m older

I want to run away. Just completely disappear, tell nobody, and become someone entirely new. I can dress in pleated short skirts and blazers, be coy and mysterious enough that everywhere I go people are intrigued and charmed by my mere existence, only to vanish as quickly as I arrived. I want to be known yet unknown. Leave behind my past so I have enough secrets to fuel a thousand rumours about who I am. Maybe that’s good material for being lonely, but is that not how all the best people live and die?

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

— Lee Smith

“There was so much in you that charmed me that I felt I must tell you something about yourself. I thought how tragic it would be if you were wasted.”

— Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

I hope that someday when I am gone, someone, somewhere, picks my soul up off of these pages and thinks, “I would have loved her.”

- Nicole Lyons, Hush

how long do i have to romanticise my life for before it actually gets romantic? just curious.

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

if not, winter by sappho // ampio orizzonte by ettore tito // lesbos by sylvia plath

half of me finishes a book within 6-12 consecutive hours and the other half of me takes roughly six months.

“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

“Sometimes the long way is the only way home.”

— Unknown