The Reason I Like Staying Up So Late Is Because Between The Hours Of 12am - 4am, The World Is Quiet And

why are we taught that the best love we can get is romantic love? finding our soulmate. why is that our uncouncious purpose in life?

we are ignoring small loves

loving the stars. loving the wind. the songs played by birds in the forest. the rainbow. the waves. the moment we realize we drew a smile on a stranger's face. or when we feel understood. listening to our favorite song as we dance in the rain. standing in silence with a person we feel most comfortable with and realizing words aren't everything...

"love is everywhere". that's what we should hope to find.

It’s about how gentle you can be; with the rain that you’re touching, the grass you’re running on, the sunset you’re watching, the hands you’re holding, the flower you’re picking, the heart you’re feeling, the breath you’re taking; it’s about how gentle are

Somewhere, in a dream, I am 15 again. And I am peeling mandarins again in the sun. And I am laughing with my friends in class. And I go on a family trip with my best friend and her family. And we take lots of pictures. And me and my family are laughing together on the driveway at night as it rains. And I taste raspberry jam again for the first time in 10 years. And I try to find constellations in the sky. And in the morning, I have jam and butter sandwiches. And I make fairy bread for my sister. And we chop down the sugarcane from our backyard and chow it down as the juice smears our faces. And we plant roses. And my mum grows a cucumber plant. And the flocks of cockatoos still live near my house. And I take selfies in the sun. And I paint a lot and I write my first piece of poetry and the old suitcases from beneath my bed get moved. And I invite my best friend over and we go by ourselves to the old drain pipe near the stream. And I laugh till my stomach hurts. And I take the newly-washed laundry out into the sun. And suddenly, I am 15 again. And the only thing I want is for life to go on forever.

i don't think ill ever get over the lyrics one heart broke, four hands bloody because olivia is essentially saying yeah you broke my heart but i broke it too and when you're in your first serious relationship you really do break your own heart because you put everything in that first person and when the break your heart you immediately wreck yourself thinking of everything you did wrong and yeah anyway favorite crime is a hurt song

books?? amazing. paperbacks?? soft, cozy, may fit in your pocket, cheap so you don’t feel bad for taking notes in them. hardcovers??? beautiful, pristine, ground you into the world they hold by making you grip them tighter, the stars of every bookshelf. ebooks?? convenient, cheap, always with you, a vast library that you can hold in your palm. new books?? crisp, the smell of wood, ideas waiting to imprint themselves upon the world. old books?? objects transcending history, sweet smelling, enriched by the hands that stroked their pages. books.

Arp 273 is a pair of interacting galaxies, lying 300 million light years away in the constellation Andromeda. The larger of the spiral galaxies, known as UGC1810, is about five times more massive than the smaller galaxy.

Image credit: NASA/ESA & Hubble

sorry to disappoint you, but i’d rather stare out of the window, listen to music and create fake scenarios in my head than do those worthless mortal tasks

eu não posso ser sua amiga, porque a intensidsde dos meus sentimentos me machucam. Você não é amigo. Você é amor.

Obsessed with the idea of sacrifice in a book being a selfish act rather than a selfless one. Their lover screaming at them: “How dare you leave me in this barren world? How dare you take away my choice to die for you and leave me with this grief?”. They are dead, and their lover is left - a gaping wound - bleeding into the ground. Do they love them so much that they would die for them, or do they love them so much that they forced the other to live without them? Sacrifice as a bitter act. Sacrifice as something wildly violent; something tormentingly cruel — but always, always built on love. Perhaps, they are both martyrs in the end.

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is pulled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry , beauty , romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

-dead poets society