From the tumblr of Richmond writer, Glory Szabo.
(via ireadintothings)
I love your silences, they are like mine. You are the only being before whom I am not distressed by my own silences. You have a vehement silence, one feels it is charged with essences, it is a strangely alive silence, like a trap open over a well, from which one can hear the secret murmur of the earth itself.
Anais Nin
I want to be improbable, beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.
Starlings in Winter, Mary Oliver
(via trua)
We make love not because of the unrequited idea of it, but because we tend to crave for a moment of untidiness and becoming adequate for another. The endless possibilities of a 3-minute contact of two tongues which, from a certain point, spitted out the words "I love you" through gritted teeth and hidden regrets. We think we know everything about love. We don't.
