Close the door. Write with no one looking over your shoulder. Don’t try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It’s the one and only thing you have to offer.

Barbara Kingsolver (via amandaonwriting)

I forgive not because I became a saint, but because I’m tired of hating.

Paulo Coelho (via life-after-survival)

(Source: kari-shma)

90% of the time when I go on dates, I find myself thinking ‘I could be reading my book instead.’

Zosia Mamet

Screw poetry, it’s you I want, your taste, rain on you, mouth on your skin.

margaret atwood (via theartofhiding)

And in the beginning, my lungs had too much air in them, whenever you were near, like I could never breathe out enough. And in the end, my throat closed, whenever you were far, like I could never breathe in again.

Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via 4mbivalent)

Make your own Bible. Select and collect all the words and sentences that in all your readings have been to you like the blast of a trumpet.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (via imfantasyparade)

(Source: quote-book)

Her eyes were the color of faraway love.

Pablo Neruda, The Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks (via seabois)

I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways.

Rumi (via nirvikalpa)

What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous.

John Green, Looking for Alaska (via vanished)