barely perceptible

Why am I so changed? Why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words?
Emily Brontë, from Wuthering Heights  

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via mirroir)

(Source: misswallflower, via seafoamchild)

(Source: girlinlondon)

[…] Nothing
was closer to me than your coldness. So much love
remembered exactly wrong.
Gunter Grass, The Rat

(Source: journalofanobody, via poemusicoffee)

ph. Tom Ordoyno

ph. Tom Ordoyno

(Source: moldavia)

I regret nothing. There have been things I missed, but I ask no questions, because I have loved it, such as it has been, even the moments of emptiness, even the unanswered—and that I loved it, that is the unanswered in my life.
The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand

(Source: seabois, via seabois)


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