via: mahihkun  
source: julliaholland
25,848 notes // 2 weeks ago
via: jehaned  
source: braidstache

[1/?] Favourite quotes from Les Misérables by Victor Hugo | Grantaire

1,229 notes // 3 weeks ago
via: lmnpnch  
source: larmoyante
And she wanted for a moment to hold and devour him, wanted his mouth, his ears, his coat collar, wanted to surround him and engulf him… —F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night (via wintersoldier)
4,674 notes // 1 month ago
via: snark-peddler  
source: petrichour
I missed you even when I was with you. That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing. —Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (via petrichour)
772 notes // 1 month ago
via: warsanshire  
source: warsanshire

crude conversations with boys who fake laughter often.

warsanshire:

He says ‘I don’t get it, why are you still a virgin at 24?’

He says ‘I don’t believe you, I’ve seen you walk, virgins don’t walk like that’

He says, ‘That ain’t natural, people are supposed to fuck.’

He asks ‘Why though? No offence though.’

I ask ‘When was your first time?’

He says ‘I was 12’

He says ‘I know what you’re thinking, that’s too young.’

I look at his knuckles, he has two good hands.

He says ‘She was older than me.’

I ask ‘How old?’

And he says ‘It’s better that the girl is older, that’s how I learnt all things I know’

He licks his lips.

I ask again ‘How old?’

He says ‘I could use one finger to make you sob’

I think of my brother in prison and I can’t remember his face.

I ask again ‘How old?’

He says ‘Boys become men in the laps of women, you know?’

I think of my mothers face lined with her bad choices in men.

He says ‘If you were mine you wouldn’t get away with this shit, I’d eat you for hours, I’d gut you like fruit.’

I think of my cousins circumcision, how she feels like a mermaid, not human from the waist down.

He says ‘I’d look after you, you know?’

I laugh, I ask for the last time How old?’

He says ’34.’

He says ‘She was beautiful though and I know what you’re thinking but it’s not like that, I’m a man, I’m a man, I’m a man. No one could ever hurt me’.

8,256 notes // 2 months ago
The trick of sadness presents itself
in the undressing. The open air
and jagged light, the sudden exposure of skin.
The shirt, crumpled in my fist. I become
less visible. The pants collapse as if they know
what is expected of them-to fall without fanfare,
extras in a war movie. I’ve seen the ritual of nudity
become reverence but never mastered it.
I look less like myself the more layers I remove.
Hiding in my body. Alone, it’s practiced.
A calloused machinery.

There is nothing left to say about winter.
It’s coarse hunger. The clumsy ache of a body
inside a body. How sorrow leaves in droves and returns
and returns, becomes a counterpoint harmony
to the dial tone. The space between cities
telephone lines sinking under the weight of sadness.
How many times can I say I miss you before
it becomes just a sound? A collection of static
snapping between speakers. An anticipated punchline.
Even prayer becomes white noise eventually.
Every season becomes monotonous. Sorrow
always returns to the body that birthed it. —Chris Leja 
332 notes // 2 months ago
via: jewahl  
source: likeafieldmouse
106,252 notes // 3 months ago

“Now life has killed the dream.” Les Misérables (2012)

742 notes // 11 months ago
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