I hoard books. They are people who do not leave.
— Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait in Letters (via alarkling)
Please — consider me a dream.
— Franz Kafka; ‘Once while visiting his friend Max Brod, young Kafka awakened Brod’s father, who was asleep on a couch. Instead of apologizing, Kafka gently montioned him to relax, advanced through the room on tiptoe, and said softly: “Please – consider me a dream.”’ from Franz Kafka (Franz Baumer) (via auroses)
She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.
She’s never where she is. She’s only inside her head.
— Janet
Fitch, White Oleander
(via tartt)
(via tartt)
On soft Spring nights I’ll stand in the yard under the stars - Something good will come out of all things yet - And it will be golden and eternal just like that - There’s no need to say another word.