Twenty one. Mount Holyoke College. Queer.
Likes: Hipsters, History, Music & Laughs.
Dislikes: Social Interaction & Productivity.

 

The idea that you’re hard to love is ludicrous.

Attachments, Rainbow Rowell (via anditslove)

That’s the one thing you can’t download, you can’t re-create even with YouTube….there’s nothing that’s going to replace seeing someone up on a stage, singing in the same room you’re standing in. That’s something people still want and desire, and it’s a big part of what we do. There’s a song as it exists in my mind when it write it, the words and the melody and what it means to me. And then there’s the song as it exists on the tape when we record it. Then there’s the song as it exists every time it’s played and the way the individual standing there, receiving it, feels about it. That’s never the same, it always changes.

Conor Oberst (via aprettyfinemess)

The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.

Alan Wilson Watts  (via theriverjordyn)

(Source: turiya-state)

Mostly your lover passes
in the rain and does not know you when you speak.

Carol Ann Duffy, from “I Remember Me

favourite final sentences

(via the-final-sentence)

He is speaking again, saying things about how he’s left everything too late and can I forgive him, and I don’t know if I can and I am wondering about this when I feel that his voice seems close to me, very close indeed, so close that I can almost feel his breath moving at the side of my head; then I realise that all this time I am being carried forwards, or up, and I’m not sure if this is what I want and I’m panicking now, unsure if I should be trying to tread water or swim back down against this force, but it seems there’s nothing I can do, my head rushing towards some surface I didn’t know was there or that I’d forgotten was there, and I’m gasping now, my lungs tight and airless, strings of bubbles streaming from my mouth like pearls.

Maggie O’Farrell, from After You’d Gone (via the-final-sentence)