I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me. That you are a child playing...– Clementine von Radics (via sluteverrr-mom)
April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing...– T.S. Eliot, “The Wasteland” (via englishmujer)
You didn’t love her. You just didn’t want to be alone. Or maybe, maybe she was...– Callie Torres, ‘The Heart of the Matter’ (via mermaidsongs)
Tired, tired with nothing, tired with everything, tired with the world’s weight...– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned (via corpses-symphony)
And so the lion walks away from the lamb.
I’ve forgotten to exist.
She lives the poetry she cannot write.– Oscar Wilde (via tierradelaire)