verenaandrea:

Cassandra Clare

verenaandrea:

Cassandra Clare

Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?
Clarice Lispector, A Hora Da Estrela  (via 5000letters)
Go all the way with it. Do not back off. For once, go all the goddamn way with what matters.
Ernest Hemingway, from The Complete Short Stories  (via dieworten)
Does she scare you a little? Good. She should make you fear her love, so that when she lets you be apart of it, you won’t take it lightly. She should remind you of the power that beauty brings, that storms reside in her veins, and that she still wants you in the middle of it all. Do not take this soul for granted, for she is fierce, and she can take you places that you never thought you could go; but she is still loving in the midst of it all, like the calm rain after a storm, she can bring life. Learn her, and cherish her, respect her, and love her; for she is so much more than a pretty face, she is a soul on fire.
T.B. LaBerge // Things I’m still learning at 25  (via 5000letters)

Boys are adorable. Boys trail off their sentences in an appealing way. Boys bring a knapsack to work. Boys get haircuts from their roommate, who “totally knows how to cut hair.” Boys can pack up their whole life in a duffel bag and move to Brooklyn for a gig if they need to. Boys have “gigs.” Boys are broke. And when they do have money, they spend it on a trip to Colorado to see a music festival. Boys don’t know how to adjust their conversation when they’re talking to their friends or to your parents.

Until I was thirty, I only dated boys, as far as I can tell. I’ll tell you why. Men scared the shit out of me.

Men know what they want. Men make concrete plans. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn’t on the floor. Men tip generously. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men go to the dentist. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they’re thinking of kissing you… Men know what they want and they don’t let you in on their inner monologue, and that is scary.

  Mindy Kaling on boys vs. men- Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me (via wordsthat-speak)
I think I fell in love with her, a little bit. Isn’t that dumb? But it was like I knew her. Like she was my oldest, dearest friend. The kind of person you can tell anything to, no matter how bad, and they’ll still love you, because they know you. I wanted to go with her. I wanted her to notice me. And then she stopped walking. Under the moon, she stopped. And looked at us. She looked at me. Maybe she was trying to tell me something; I don’t know. She probably didn’t even know I was there. But I’ll always love her. All my life.
Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 8: Worlds’ End (via wordsnquotes)
Nothing lasts,” she says, and there’s a little crack in her voice. “You think it’s going to. You think, ‘Here’s something I can hold on to,’ but it always slips away.’
Tim Tharp, The Spectacular Now  (via c-oquetry)
You get a strange feeling when you lose someone you were intimate with. Kind of like you never want to be touched again. Or avoiding letting anyone else put their hands where theirs used to be. It becomes a strange process, letting the relationship die over and over again until you can stop hating anything that comes into contact with you that isn’t them. You resent the shower because all the hot water makes you feel like your body was never theirs. You quit masturbating because their fingers were the last inside of you and you want to keep it that way. You want your insides to become a relic of all the ways they loved you. So it becomes a funny process, you have to bury them and dig them up for every new old thing that you do without them. You kiss another person and think it’s the worst kind of betrayal. You’re angry at your mouth for enjoying it, you’re angry at your mouth for wanting more, and you’re angry at yourself for forgetting what their lips tasted like. That’s how it happens, you barely notice at first. It starts with tiny little things, you forget how they looked in the morning, you forget how their own brand of stubble felt between your thighs, you move on and it’s terrifying and it’s glorious but more than that, it’s freeing. Because you thought you’d never have that again, you’d never want someone so much that it felt like drowning and gasping for air was the most wonderful thing you’d ever done.

So it’s okay, you can say ‘I am so scared that I will never love someone like I loved you’ when they leave, but it won’t be true. It won’t come close to true. Months from now you’ll be in a dark room with another person who turns your body into a lit match and there will be a litany of ‘fucks’ falling in procession from your mouth and they will be more a part of you than anyone has ever been and you’ll feel glorious and more than that, you’ll feel safe. And here is what you’re going to think: I had that moment with you and I am thankful for it. That is it.
Azra.T ”You have to dig up some skeletons before you can bury them” (via 5000letters)
Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be. Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs. Kiss her until she moans. Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist. Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen. Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. Take your time. Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste. Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her stupid. Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer.
Azra.T “this is how you keep her” (via 5000letters)

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