when kafka said ‘you wouldn’t believe the kind of person I could become if you wanted it’ and when brontë said ‘if you ever looked at me with what I know is in you, I would be your slave’ and when Sartre said ‘if I’ve got to suffer it may as well be at your hands’
(via kosmogrl)
bring back homeric epithets. call people brave-hearted, swift-footed, laughter loving and loud thundering. view the world with its rosy fingered and saffron robed dawns, its wine dark seas. make your own, walk across kiln fired earth and moss soft as sea sponges. be dew-eyed and soft-cheeked and silver-souled, deft-fingered and bright-tongued. gaze up at the many-storied stars and feel the warmth of the ancient sun, father of gods and men, as it beats down on the shimmering world, soft spun like caterpillar silk
(via thedearidiot)
(via katidral)
what i wouldn’t give to have someone absentmindedly drawing gentle circles and shapes against my skin with their fingertips
(via katidral)
