Crazy Woman, Crazy Woman

“I forgive people but that doesn’t mean I accept their behavior or trust them again. I forgive them for me, so I can let go and move on with my life.”

— Unknown

“Sensitive people should be treasured. They love deeply and think deeply about life. They are loyal, honest and true. The simple things often mean the most to them. They don’t need to change or harden. Their purity makes them who they are.”

— Unknown

Sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed.

Friedrich Nietzsche

Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Marian Engel, from Notebooks: "Ah, Mon Cahier, čoute"

Text ID: Art is always becoming.

“Do you want to meet the love of your life? Look in the mirror.”

— Unknown (via stay-close)

What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.

Helen Keller

My entire life can be described in one sentence: It didn’t go as planned, and that’s okay.

Rachel Wolchin

the poetry of brown eyes

There needs to be more poetic descriptions of brown eyes in literature, so I wrote some.

It was as if the stars had lent their light to his eyes, etching their constellations into the rich black-brown and painting a sky of their own inside them.

Their eyes held the hue of tea-stained lace, soft and delicate and rich, a wash of gentle brown against the harsh dark shadows of the world.

Her eyes held the nostalgia of summer memories. It was the way they turned into the warmest brown under the sun, like the richest, darkest honey; the way tendrils of amber like the juice of a nectarine streaked their way through, wreathing the pupil in a symphony of golds.

Her eyes were bright and dancing, like the curious ruffled feathers of a sparrow — and as flighty as one, too, darting quickly and nervously away, her gaze fluttering across different spots of the room erratically.

His gaze locked on him, intense and searching. The black, shadowy depths of his eyes shrouded him, leaving him desperately scrabbling for an escape from the dark pull of his stare.

Their eyes had a distinct sense of antiquity to them, the precise hue of a worn, leather-bound book and the faded mahogany of a desk from a time long lost.

If you use or are inspired by these while writing, I'd love it if you tagged me so I can gush over your amazing work :)

“Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.”

— I’ll Give You The Sun (Jandy Nelson)