I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin.
I want.
—Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants (via larmoyante)
NIMBLE AS A NOUN
Writer. Girl. Young. Halcyon. NYU.
He lifted her up against the pantry door, and the jars of jam rattled within, raspberry against currant against plum.
Audrey Hepburn in 1954, winning her first Oscar for “Roman Holiday” and wearing a dress by Edith Head and Givenchy.
I live to be as elegant and graceful as the ladies of this age. Who is like this today?
(via theportablefaulkner)
Will forever love this novel.
(Source: drawinds, via dietcokeandnotebooks)
(Source: considerthephoenix, via hewn)
My mind kidnapped his and took him places he’s only dreamed about,
He’s in love with me.
—Ebony Stewart, “He’s In Love With Me” (via nextstoprequested)
(Source: youtube.com, via princessbindi)
I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words.
—(via sorakeem)
(Source: freckledhips, via theportablefaulkner)
Lord Byron
(Source: whitepaperquotes, via theportablefaulkner)
This is love, she thought, isn’t it? When you notice someone’s absence and hate that absence more than anything? More, even, than you love his presence?
—Jonathan Safran Foer (via larmoyante)
(Source: larmoyante)
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