orchard & broome

She hated the namelessness of women in stories, as if they lived and died so that men could have metaphysical insights.
by Chad Harbach, The Art of Fielding (via honeychurch)

(Source: fissionaccomplished, via honeychurch)

to Zelda from F. Scott Fitzgerald, 26th April 1934

You and I have been happy; we haven’t been happy just once, we’ve been happy a thousand times. The chances that the spring, that’s for everyone, like in the popular songs, may belong to us too—the chances are pretty bright at this time because as usual, I can carry most of contemporary literary opinion, liquidated, in the hollow of my hand—and when I do, I see the swan floating on it and—I find it to be you and you only. But, Swan, float lightly because you are a swan, because by the exquisite curve of your neck the gods gave you some special favor, and even though you fractured it running against some man-made bridge, it healed and you sailed onward. Forget the past—what you can of it, and turn about and swim back home to me, to your haven for ever and ever—even though it may seem a dark cave at times and lit with torches of fury; it is the best refuge for you—turn gently in the waters through which you move and sail back.

(Source: valuska, via castlekeys)

May 21st 18 hours ago

It is painfully easy to define human beings. They are beings who, for no good reason at all, create their own unnecessary suffering.
by Natsume Sōseki (via silkseas)

(Source: milkthistles, via silkseas)

Things are sweeter when they’re lost. I know—because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly…And when I got it it turned to dust in my hands.
by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned (via larmoyante)

(via pattiocleavis)

i feel like a lump of coal because i have been sick all day and with cramps and i have taken two naps is it okay to kill a day because i’ve been killing the day by hoping the hours go by faster so i can get to my shower then get to sleep and then wake up to go to my cottage where i can feel free from the city again and free of contemplations that i am truly a hungry loser

May 18th 3 days ago

The woods are never solitary—they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity.
by L.M. Montgomery, Kilmeny of the Orchard (via mirroir)

(Source: seabois, via mirroir)

the night whispers to me that she is out there and that she is beautiful but all i see are shadows and stars scattered, a million orphans from horizon to horizon.
by Dark Raven (via beryl-azure)

(via word-digest)