How sweet it is to be loved by you.
(Source: dustjacketattic, via daisypies)
Scotland was so worth the exchange of riding a sassy red Vespa to class this morning. I suppose.
(Source: lovelylaurak, via ithinkiguess)
I don’t think there is anything in the world as perfect as a truly sincere hug followed by finding an ownerless ten dollars on the ground. Happy Friday.
It is possible that the purest forms of happiness are amplified by the joyous periods in our life that we know will inevitably slip from our grip. How cherished is the laughter, the silence, the harmony, and even the strains and burdens that we share, when we know that the ones with whom we share them are about to to begin a new journey. Far, far, away. Life will never be the same. Close your eyes, breathe in the smells, welcome surrounding voices. Listen for the music that others miss. Open your eyes. Even if only through the smallest differences, what you see can never be the same.
Writing about literature will only make you love it more.
(Source: lifeinpictures101)
It makes sense in my head. Maybe one day it will make sense on paper. But even for Faulkner, words were never enough.
There were so many of them, everywhere. And then I would find that three, four, five of them were “it”. No, all of them were it. And once one got me we would all fall into a pile of giggles. And then someone would pull the little girl’s hair while we were in the pile and I would say, “It’s okay because we’re both it now!” And then they would scatter and I would swing her onto my back.
The tears shed from what was lost remind us of the joy of what was found.
Education is not the filling of a pail but the lighting of a fire.
—
William Butler Yeats
How grateful am I for all of the wonderful teachers I have had.
Sleep, Exercise, Study, Laugh.
Perfection is not constant sickness, frown lines, and straight “A”s.
(Source: hollyhocksandtulips, via kaciespace)
Toys in every store.
(Source: trustwithoutwonder, via gigglesandcheckerboards)
