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“My soul is alight with your infinitude of stars. Your world has broken upon me like a flood. The flowers of your garden blossom in my body. The joy of life that is everywhere burns like an incense in my heart.”

— Rabindranath Tagore

i will never understand people who don’t like history. how can you not be entranced by something so intertwined in every step you take and everything you set your eyes on? how can you not love something that explains everything from the ground you walk on to the clothes you wear and the tongue you speak? how can you not adore something that tells the tale of every human who ever walked the earth? how can you not like something so deeply human?

Okay but like I just think about lovers who came before us, before the advent of technology. When they had to yearn for days and days until their next letter and then the feeling of excitement mixed with curiosity whilst promising of secretly meeting them in a dingy place where a million conversations would happen in just a few words while their eyes hold each other captive or sneaking glances at each other in public and the unresolved sexual tension which keeps growing with every second of every minute and if they accidentally touch each other------

gosh where do I sign up?

To my future wife,

We're gonna have so much fun together.

Maybe we'll be shoving each other when we're brushing our teeth.

Maybe we'll be chasing each other through the backyard.

And then you trip and fall and we're both laughing together and then you look up and the sun's shining right behind my head.

You kiss me.

Because you're grateful.

And no, I don't look forward to it for the sex and the physicality of it.

I look forward to it so I can brush the hair off your eyes every morning when we wake up.

I look forward to it so I can bring you coffee and burnt toast in bed and you pretending like it's a gourmet meal.

I look forward to it so I can say "I love you" every single night because there's no one else I'd rather share the moon and the stars with.

life would be so different if i was a bookshop owner in a small village near some forest, who has a secret affair with the local poet

Simply imagine being a poet's muse.

I’m not even kidding when I say I wish I had a friend that wanted to buy a house w me

“THE WORLD IS increasingly designed to depress us. Happiness isn’t very good for the economy. If we were happy with what we had, why would we need more? How do you sell an anti-ageing moisturiser? You make someone worry about ageing. How do you get people to vote for a political party? You make them worry about immigration. How do you get them to buy insurance? By making them worry about everything. How do you get them to have plastic surgery? By highlighting their physical flaws. How do you get them to watch a TV show? By making them worry about missing out. How do you get them to buy a new smartphone? By making them feel like they are being left behind. To be calm becomes a kind of revolutionary act. To be happy with your own non-upgraded existence. To be comfortable with our messy, human selves, would not be good for business.”

— Matt Haig, Reasons to Stay Alive (via theglasschild)

Don't be shy, gift me a book and press a flower between the pages ;)

Imagine lending books to someone and they sent you flowers pressed in between the pages.

Did this to my pen pal from Norway, I'm #so sorry.