the days run away like wild horses over the hills
/ message archive theme /
EMILY.
dark roasted coffee, earl grey tea, and love poems.
There is a morning inside you waiting to burst open into light.
written by Rumi (via sublimesea)

(via hmnelsyoga)

Radiate boundless love towards the entire world — above, below, and across — unhindered, without ill will, without enmity.
written by Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, the Metta Sutta (via panatmansam)

(via hmnelsyoga)

ti-bacio:

"Blind date with a book" 📖 buy a book without knowing the actual title but just what it’s about… Love it 💕 (at Somewhere In Newtown)
noelshiveley:

Mrs. Doubtfire kept me positive when my dad left us.
Hook made me glad that I didn’t fit in.
and Dead Poet Society completely changed the way I think.
Much love to someone who I’ve never met, yet has impacted me more that I can say.
youmightfindyourself:

Mary Frey, Catcher, 2014 as part of the Satan Ceramics show
excdus:

These iron islands appear in the middle of the salt lake Arizaro in Argentina, their colors are the result of oxidation across millions of years. 
Stéphane San Quirce
Time flows in a strange way on Sundays.
written by Haruki Murakami  (via seulray)

(Source: 7000km-in-aer, via seulray)

Your thighs are appletrees. Your knees are a southern breeze.
written by William Carlos Williams (via seabois)

(via seulray)

The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!

Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.

In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
From you the wings of the song birds rose.

You swallowed everything, like distance.
Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank!

It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.
The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.


written by Pablo Neruda, A Song Of Despair (via whyallcaps)

(via seulray)