THIS Is What Wine + Your Song Gets You At 3 Am - Blog Posts

adam jacob richards & walden cole montgomery

“he was my north, my south, my east and west, my working week and my sunday rest, my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; i thought that love would last for ever: i was wrong.”

― w.h. auden, stop all the clocks

“come then, put away your sword in its sheath, and let us two go up into my bed so that, lying together in the bed of love, we may then have faith and trust in each other.”

― homer, the odyssey

“so excuse me forgetting, but these things i do. you see, i've forgotten if they're green or they're blue. anyway, the thing is, what i really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen.”

― elton john, your song

“whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” 

― emily bronte, wurthing heights

“he said, "let's get out of this town, drive out of the city, away from the crowds." i thought, heaven can't help me now. nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take me down. he's so tall and handsome as hell. he's so bad, but he does it so well. i can see the end as it begins, my one condition is: say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress staring at the sunset, babe. red lips and rosy cheeks, say you'll see me again. even if it's just in your wildest dreams.”

― taylor swift, wildest dreams

"he smiled understandingly — much more than understandingly. it was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you might come across four or five times in your life. it faced — or seemed to face — the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. it understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey."

― f. scott fitzgerald, the great gatsby

“you do not have to be good. you do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. tell me about despair, yours, and i will tell you mine. meanwhile the world goes on.”

― mary oliver, wild geese