Linger
We're all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars
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I just read a really beautiful screenplay.

YES

(Source: fishingboatproceeds)

I’m always amazed at friends who say they try to read at night in bed but always end up falling asleep. I have the opposite problem. If a book is good I can’t go to sleep, and stay up way past my bedtime, hooked on the writing. Is anything better than waking up after a late-night read and diving right back into the plot before you even get out of bed to brush your teeth?
John Walters, Role Models (via bookmania)
fishingboatproceeds: madasthecheshire: Oh hi I think this is the first The Fault in Our Stars tattoo that I’ve seen. Remember: ONLY IF IT’S NOT YOUR FIRST TATTOO. YES

fishingboatproceeds:

madasthecheshire:

Oh hi

I think this is the first The Fault in Our Stars tattoo that I’ve seen. Remember: ONLY IF IT’S NOT YOUR FIRST TATTOO.

YES

So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.
John Green, Looking for Alaska (via bookmania)
For the survivor who chooses to testify, it is clear: his duty is to bear witness for the dead and for the living. He has no right to deprive future generations of a past that belongs to our collective memory. To forget would be not only dangerous but offensive; to forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.
Elie Wiesel, Night (via bookmania)

Reminds me of The Giver

How far, how far we’ve come
together, tumbling like stars
in harness or alone.
David Malouf, from “Stars” (via the-final-sentence)
I have always imagined that paradise will be some kind of library.
Jorge Luis Borges (via nypl)

iheartclassics:

GORGEOUS!

thevoicesproject:

When You Are Old

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
To guide someone
through the halls of hell
is not the same as love.
Gregory Orr, from “When Eurydice Saw Him” (via the-final-sentence)
iheartclassics: The Raven…Nevermore

iheartclassics:

The Raven…Nevermore