It's that time of year when I read all of my favorite books. And of course I start with this one. 💔 (at the factory)
Hank Green (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via perfect)
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (x)
Oh man, the E.E. Cummings one.
And the Whitman one.
Swooning a little over here.
Poets are always taking the weather so personally.
C ummings obtained training with green peace thus one year of absolute reform as probation ends Hammond harangue
“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”
—Ernest Hemingway
when you’re 100 pages from the end of your book and you want to go to bed but it’s getting good so you’re all “one more chapter” then “okay one more chapter and then suddenly you’re 30 pages from the end and it’s like “shit son, might as well finish it”
“And of course she must improve her mind by extensive reading.”
John Green (via ciinemas)


