May 2013
2 posts
April 2013
3 posts
“I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can.”
—Neil Gaiman (via c-oquetry)
March 2013
1 post
February 2013
1 post
January 2013
2 posts
December 2012
1 post
November 2012
2 posts
October 2012
2 posts
September 2012
3 posts
August 2012
3 posts
Breath of Life
Florence + The Machine
Breath of Life - Florence + The Machine
July 2012
3 posts
“What’s your name,’ Coraline asked the cat. ‘Look, I’m Coraline. Okay?’
‘Cats don’t have names,’ it said.
‘No?’ said Coraline.
‘No,’ said the cat. ‘Now you people have names. That’s because you don’t know who you are. We know who we are, so we don’t need names.”—
Neil Gaiman in Coraline
June 2012
1 post
May 2012
1 post
April 2012
2 posts
March 2012
8 posts
Souvenir d'un lieu cher Op. 42 III. Mélodie
Tchaikovsky
Souvenir d’un lieu cher Op. 42 III. Mélodie - Tchaikovsky
February 2012
3 posts
January 2012
4 posts
“Destroy my desires, eradicate my ideals, show me something better, and I will follow you.”
—Fyodor Dostoyevsky (via apathie)
December 2011
8 posts
Eu
Eu sou a que no mundo anda perdida,
Eu sou a que na vida não tem norte,
Sou a irmã do Sonho, e desta sorte
Sou a crucificada… a dolorida…
Sombra de névoa ténue e esvaecida,
E que o destino, amargo, triste e forte,
Impele brutalmente para a morte!
Alma de luto sempre incompreendida!
Sou aquela que passa e ninguém vê…
Sou a que chamam triste sem o ser…
Sou a que chora sem saber porquê…
Sou talvez a visão que Alguém sonhou,
Alguém que veio ao mundo pra me ver
E que nunca na vida me encontrou!
“That’s why I write fiction — so that I can keep telling the story. I return to problems I can’t solve, not because I’m an idiot, but because the real problems can’t be solved. The universe is expanding. The more we see, the more we discover there is to see. Always a new beginning, a different end.”
—Jeanette Winterson, Weight (via distantheartbeats)
Paris
“Couples strolling hand in hand along the gravel walk seemed to mock her loneliness. Was it just her, or did lovers look more adoringly at each other in this city? Especially in the springtime. Die, bastards.”
