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“So I said, “Okay, go.” But I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it and how could you not know?”

— Chloe Frayne

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Is somebody gonna match my peace?

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The lunacy of turmoil subdued

Foreboding - relief from grief -

I enter - brief madness

Splotches of colour masking

A haze vibrant basking

Night towers over

My cowering sane

A smoke of sight

And senselessness

I never chant in wisdom what

I chased in peace

Sensefully sheathed

Thought exits - a golden retreat

Enter - engulfing madness

I drown without sea

Once relief now turned

Into terrors I flee

I chase,

I am chased

Thought suppressed, spirals unaddressed

The fervour of fever displaces frolick

Actions disengaged

No person in calvarium caged

Exit - who?

"I" am erased in blaze

- Saumya D.

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“What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.”

— Franz Kafka

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“Every artists dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.”

— Henry Ward Beecher

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“I sometimes have moments of such despair, such despair … Because in those moments I start to think that I will never be capable of beginning to live a real life; because I have already begun to think that I have lost all sense of proportion, all sense of the real and the actual; because, what is more, I have cursed myself; because my nights of fantasy are followed by hideous moments of sobering! And all the time one hears the human crowd swirling and thundering around one in the whirlwind of life, one hears, one sees how people live—that they live in reality, that for them life is not something forbidden, that their lives are not scattered for the winds like dreams or visions but are forever in the process of renewal, forever young, and that no two moments in them are ever the same; while how dreary and monotonous to the point of being vulgar is timorous fantasy, the slave of shadow, of the idea...” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights

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(...) the day faded. We were dreaming, waiting for night.

Louise Glück

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"We didn't care whether we lived or died, and that is the exact reason we lived." - Richard Papen

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“I often changed parts, but it was always the same play.”

-Albert Camus, The Fall. p.60 Vintage Books.

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“Your heart understood mine. In the depth of the fragrant night, I listened with ravished soul to your beloved voice. Your heart understood mine.”

— Louisa May Alcott

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– Noor Unnahar, Instagram account "noor_unnahar"

[TEXT ID: / [Lemons] / My father's mother loved lemons. Years after her passing, / we run out of everything, but never / lemons. / Nothing else shelters grief / better than memory. / It's my father way of saying, / even in your absence, you will be / cared by me. / END ID]

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“i want a life full of soft colours, i want to bathe in roses and drink tea mid-afternoon; i want to watch the sunlight illuminate my room through the blinds, i want to be the sun, i want a library the size of the moon and to feel true reciprocated love—i want to love myself. i want red ribbons in my hair and long walks as the sunsets, i want to set a man’s heart on fire, i want to be fire itself. i want the pretty little things that make life fun.”

— P. A. Bitez From the book ‘Soft Tortures’ (via cherryfoxs)

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A good day to me would be waking up without panic in my heart, no alarm just sunlight in my eyes, not having to rush to make breakfast, really feeling the heat move from my mug to my palms, reading a few pages of my book, going for a walk with the intention of really hearing the world move and breathe and hum around me, listening to music with someone I love, dancing with them, taking them to dinner and making them laugh from across a table filled with bread and candles and strawberry wine, going to bed all warm and full and excited for the next day of my not so noteworthy but joyous little life….