She loved three things — a joke, a glass of wine, and a handsome man. W. Somerset Maugham, The Moon And Sixpence (via osmios)

(Source: aesthetic--pleasures, via clothesmindedx3)


2 days ago · 43,751 notes ·reblog
Step into the fire of self-discovery. This fire will not burn you, it will only burn what you are not. Mooji  (via awakenedvibrations)

(Source: selenemooneffe, via requiemforathought)


2 days ago · 18,756 notes ·reblog
Truth is, I’m a fucking romantic. I’m difficult but I promise - I’m not boring.

Amy Winehouse

Everything you love is here

(via lovequotesrus)

(Source: misswinehouse, via lovequotesrus)


2 days ago · 62,317 notes ·reblog
boldchick:

therealleaah:

XIV


http://boldchick.tumblr.com/
beauty-student:

this is probably one of my favourite backstage makeup images. You could find it in a magazine.

elevenxi said: where are you from love?

Georgia. :)

1 week ago · 1 note ·reblog
If two people in love grow closer to God as individuals, they’ll grow closer to each other simply by striving to reach the same destination. (via faith-and-logic)

(via chocolatehighhh)


2 weeks ago · 4,069 notes ·reblog
Wouldn’t we be quite the pair?—you with your bad heart, me with my bad head. Together, though, we might have something worthwhile. a letter from Zelda Fitzgerald to her husband F. Scott Fitzgerald. (via tre-cherous)

(Source: mockinglys, via clothesmindedx3)


2 weeks ago · 59,021 notes ·reblog
Either be groovy or leave, man. Bob Dylan  (via spliffminded)

(via clothesmindedx3)


2 weeks ago · 49,919 notes ·reblog

Here we are, baby, in the car
out front of your first big mistake.
I know it looks terrifying. I can see your
white knuckle grip on the door handle,
but please, darling girl, be brave.

In this parking lot, there are
cement poles marked with numbers
and a feeling of cold. In the center,
here you are, metallic and
breakable and so beautiful.

This is where you forget about me,
at least for a little while.
This is where I tell you that it is okay.

On your way out, tuck this taste you will learn to know so well
under your tongue;
the taste of bathroom corners
and lipstick licked out from between your teeth
and every wrong decision.

Remember: the sour, the asphalt salt against roof of mouth,
let it teach you to chew, to swallow.
Remember: it’s okay if he doesn’t love you. It’s okay if
his lips don’t curl around your syllables the right way.
You are sacred in every flavour and he is not hungry.

This is where I ball my fists and place them beside
your own on the dashboard and unlearn the years
of forgetting what it meant to be this fragile.
This is where I say I will hold you,
where I remind you that the metal in your mouth
should always be your own.

This is where I tell you that it will feel like dying.
This is where I tell you that it isn’t.
This is where you open the door and I call after you
to remind you that I’ve done this, too,
so make your mistakes.
Look back, if you have to.

Here, the headlights will stay on for you.
Here, the passenger’s seat will wait.
Here, home is a highway exit away,
and I will be there. I will stay.

The Car Ride Towards Lost Daughters | Caitlyn & Ramna (via inkywings)

(via alonesomes)


2 weeks ago · 653 notes ·reblog
We are more than the worst thing that’s ever happened to us. All of us need to stop apologizing for having been to hell and come back breathing. Clementine Von Radics, Broken (via perfect)

(Source: gospel-stitch, via perfect)


2 weeks ago · 24,873 notes ·reblog
credit