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Vincero!!!

Vincero!!!

laughing-trees:

Oh my goodness

laughing-trees:

Oh my goodness

(via trvl)

At fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise (via meadowings)

(Source: larmoyante, via humbl3pie)

Ebben? Ne andrò lontana,
Come va l’eco della pia campana,

Là, fra la neve bianca;

Là, fra le nubi d’ôr;
Laddóve la speranza, la speranza
È rimpianto, è rimpianto, è dolor!

Well? I will go far away,
As far as the echo of the church bell,
There, through the white snow,
There, through the golden clouds,

There, where hope is regret and pain.

(Source: Spotify)

(Source: leafla, via grunge-babez)

She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world.
Joanne Harris (via apoetreflects)

(Source: larmoyante, via apoetreflects)

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.
William Shakespeare, from Macbeth, Act 1, Scene IV (via apoetreflects)

I love Shakespeare.

(Source: steelylaceribbon, via apoetreflects)

Voy a curarte el alma en duelo
Voy a dejarte como nuevo
Y todo va a pasar
Pronto verás el sol brillar

Tú más que nadie merecer ser feliz

Ya vas a ver como van sanando
Poco a poco tus heridas
Ya vas a ver como va
La misma vida a decantar la sal que sobra del mar

you could live in that landscape of sound
[…]
quiet nights of quiet stars
calibrating the hours in diamonds and rust
troubled water
and a bridge to take [you] over
Jennifer K. Sweeney, from “The Listeners,” in How to Live on Bread and Music (Perugia Press, 2009)

(Source: apoetreflects)

“When on the Marge of Evening”By Louise Imogen GuineyWHEN on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken,	  And winds of dreamy odor are loosened from afar,	Or when my lattice opens, before the lark hath spoken,	  On dim laburnum-blossoms, and morning’s dying star,	I think of thee (oh mine the more if other eyes be sleeping!)	          Whose greater noonday splendors the many share and see,	While sacred and forever, some perfect law is keeping	  The late, the early twilight, alone and sweet for me.

“When on the Marge of Evening”
By Louise Imogen Guiney

WHEN on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken,
And winds of dreamy odor are loosened from afar,
Or when my lattice opens, before the lark hath spoken,
On dim laburnum-blossoms, and morning’s dying star,

I think of thee (oh mine the more if other eyes be sleeping!)
Whose greater noonday splendors the many share and see,
While sacred and forever, some perfect law is keeping
The late, the early twilight, alone and sweet for me.

(via brightlights-citynights)

I’m restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.
Anaïs Nin (via thelostdeer)

(via acutelystressed)

(Source: m0rtality, via 4doors)

(Source: 01012012, via aerei)

"This was a story about a girl who could find infinite beauty in anything..."-The Brothers Bloom

Visual expressions of an inward philosophy.