If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.

— John Keats (via observando)

…And please remember that you were beautiful before he told you that you were.

— (via mermaidsongs)

…is ignorance bliss, I don’t know, but it’s so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.

— Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (via observando)

Such was a poet and shall be and is
-who’ll solve the depths of horror to defend a sunbeam’s architecture with his life: and carve immortal jungles of despair to hold a mountain’s heartbeat in his hand.

— e.e. cummings (via observando)
linneasnow:

@
orux:

New York, 1972