a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head—a crisp analysis, a cathartic dialogue, a devastating comeback.
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Don’t you tremble when he comes near you? Don’t you feel something like a dream when he brings his lips close to yours? Tell me.
Federico García Lorca, from Yerma, Three Tragedies: Blood Wedding, Yerma, Bernarda Alba tr. James Graham-Luján & Richard L. O'Connell (via lifeinpoetry)
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Come over. I don’t really mind whether we talk for hours, get blind drunk, or sit in silence and look up to the stars. Sometimes, the world down here just gets a bit much, and I need to lose myself in someone’s company for a little while.
Beau Taplin (via lovelustquotes)
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