heartbreak monday...

what the river was showing her now was that she could flow beyond the brokenness, redeem herself, and fuse once more…
— ursula hegi (via mossylife)

(Source: larmoyante, via nenasoulfly)

we are the breakers of our own hearts…
— eudora welty
did you say l’amour?
i heard la mort!
Jean Genet   (via roentgens)

(via roentgens)

a book is really like a lover. it arranges itself in your life in a way that is beautiful….
— maurice sendak  </3

i need a little room to sway… </3


diego:
Nothing compares to your hands, nothing like the green-gold of your eyes. My body is filled with you for days and days. you are the mirror of the night. the violent flash of lightning. the dampness of the earth. The hollow of your armpits is my shelter. my fingers touch your blood. All my joy is to feel life spring from your flower-fountain that mine keeps to fill all the paths of my nerves which are yours.
frida&#8217;s handwritten love letter to diego. &lt;/3

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diego:

Nothing compares to your hands, nothing like the green-gold of your eyes. My body is filled with you for days and days. you are the mirror of the night. the violent flash of lightning. the dampness of the earth. The hollow of your armpits is my shelter. my fingers touch your blood. All my joy is to feel life spring from your flower-fountain that mine keeps to fill all the paths of my nerves which are yours.


frida’s handwritten love letter to diego. </3

this man.  be still my heart&#8230;

this man.  be still my heart…

(Source: dirtyellowfox)

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