Literature duplicates the experience of living in away that nothing else can, drawing you so fully into another life that you temporarily forget you have one of your own. That is why you read it, and might even sit up in bed till early dawn, throwing your whole tomorrow out of whack, simply to find out what happens to some people who, you know perfectly well, are made up.

— Barbara Kingslover (via ohfairies)

January 11, 2013
My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations

— John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via vintage-kisses)

January 4, 2013
20sunflowers:

so it goes on We Heart It. http://weheartit.com/entry/44097832/via/warmmorning
69shadesofgray:

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11typewriters:

restaurer:

A hot chocolate kind of afternoon. by Julie Lavelle on Flickr.

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airudite:

The Simple Story by Mr. Eureka on Flickr.
greekg0ds:

(by Jack Toohey)
greekg0ds:

by joycetsin
Credit