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paperdollhearts: “They had driven over the crest of a hill. Below them was a pond, looking almost like a river so long and winding was it. A bridge spanned it midway and from there to its lower end, where an amber-hued belt of sand-hills shut it in from the dark blue gulf beyond, the water was a glory of many shifting hues—the most spiritual shadings of crocus and rose and ethereal green, with other elusive tintings for which no name has ever been found. Above the bridge the pond ran up into fringing groves of fir and maple and lay all darkly translucent in their wavering shadows. Here and there a wild plum leaned out from the bank like a white-clad girl tip-toeing to her own reflection. From the marsh at the head of the pond came the clear, mournfully-sweet chorus of the frogs. There was a little gray house peering around a white apple orchard on a slope beyond and, although it was not yet quite dark, a light was shining from one of its windows.”That’s Barry’s pond,” said Matthew. ”Oh, I don’t like that name, either. I shall call it—let me see—The Lake of Shining Waters.” -Anne of Green Gables
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home-withbrokenhearts: 87/365 - Drops Of Jupiter a letter to myself and anyone else that might need it
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" I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don’t know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness. "
by Anaïs Nin 
(via seabois)

(via ciao-miau)

5:42 AM
7,631 notes • 8:35 AM
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" Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad dreams, your shoes, your nouns. Take me to your fingers. "
by Margaret Atwood, Good Bones  (via commovente)

(via letters-to-nobody)

8:35 AM
" Do you know what I need? To escape into the mountains, surrounded by tall trees, I will lay on the moss, and breath in the scent of mushrooms, flowers and wet soil. "
by Les Discrets - L’ Échappée  (via pearleyednomad)

(Source: heathenwoods, via delicateswans)

6:55 AM
naturae: Milky Way over Tetons (by IronRodArt - Royce Bair (“Star Shooter”))
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"

You asked me if I wanted to get drunk and stay the night, and I said yes, and we ending up just lying there in bed, my head resting on your chest, thinking about all the parties we didn’t go to or the roads we didn’t turn down or the words we never said because we thought they sounded too foolish or romantic or silly. And eventually we came to the conclusion that there’s always gonna be the nights when we break down in the car by ourselves listening to The Smiths in a dark, empty parking lot, or the days when even opening our eyes requires more effort than dragging someone out of a burning building.

But then your hand drifted down and it rested over my heart, and we sat there like that for a while, smoking, the city outside just breathing and breathing, over and over again, all the lights out there symbolizing college girls pinching their skin in the mirror or two elderly people falling in love for what feels like the millionth time. The awkward first dates at coffee shops and the librarians who go home and watch porn for two hours every night. You told me all these extraordinary things were happening every day and that sometimes it didn’t matter what road we didn’t take or the things we never said because somewhere out there, there was another couple lying in a shabby little bed with only a few covers, touching each others’ skin and trying to feel alright again when everything was crashing down on them.

 "
by Sleepwalking by writingsforwinter (via writingsforwinter)
6:41 AM