podencos:

life is mostly just choice. the choice to stagnate or evolve or scrape your knees or get back up or laugh or cry. every choice is yours to make and the good thing is you can choose them all

cottaqecore:

beth

rootlessly:

autumn mornings ⋇ 5 oct

neolithicastronaut:

A display from a smalltown second hand bookstore. What has been found in books.

angelic-child:

Here’s a poem I wrote for a friend and a lil edit I made

flowerytale:

Frank O'Hara, from “Biotherm (for Bill Berkson)”, The Collected Poems

slayerofthevampire:

And stay, my dear, stay… Forever, as my quiet song, in my lilac dawn.

—Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos

We can’t possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name’s become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It’s a sad season of life without growth… It has no day.

—F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat. Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.

—The Eagles, Hotel California

podencos:

everyday I believe more and more that everyone should be able to: make their home an environment that feels beautiful and activating to themselves (knowing and decorating to your taste), have a hobby that sustains their creative mind (cooking, birdwatching, camping, reading, etc), and an avocation that strengthens their body (running, yoga, hiking, rowing, etc)

goldcoasthoney: