The sun loved the moon so much, he died every day to let her breathe

Friedrich Nietzsche (via happy-absturz)

(Source: iamcharliesangel, via guaddamnit)

I notice that Autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.

e.e. cummings  (via psych-facts)

Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.
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