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whycantyouseemylove

@whycantyouseemylove

Basically a repost page πŸ˜… Ace and arospec

β€œπ‘†π‘‘π‘Žπ‘¦, π‘‘π‘œ π‘›π‘œπ‘‘ π‘™π‘’π‘Žπ‘£π‘’, 𝑖𝑛 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ β„Žπ‘’π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘ π‘œπ‘“ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘›π‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘, π‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿ π‘šπ‘œπ‘œπ‘›'𝑠 π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘“π‘’π‘”π‘’, π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’'𝑠 π‘›π‘œπ‘‘β„Žπ‘–π‘›π‘” π‘ π‘€π‘’π‘’π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿ π‘‘β„Žπ‘Žπ‘› π‘™π‘œπ‘£π‘’, 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘”π‘Žπ‘§π‘’.”

β€”Fereydoon Moshiri

β€œI am a very boring and unpleasant man, drowned in literature.. But I love you.”

β€”Vladimir Nabokov, in a letter to his wife VΓ©ra (1924), Letters to VΓ©ra

β€œπ‘Œπ‘œπ‘’ π‘™π‘œπ‘œπ‘˜ π‘™π‘–π‘˜π‘’ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’'𝑣𝑒 π‘’π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’π‘› π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ 𝑠𝑒𝑛, π‘™π‘–π‘˜π‘’ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘›π‘˜ π‘ π‘œ π‘šπ‘’π‘β„Ž π‘ π‘’π‘›π‘™π‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘ π‘¦π‘œπ‘’'π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘€π‘›π‘–π‘›π‘” 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑑.”

β€”Yves Olade, When Rome Falls

words i wish were written for me

Including book quotes, poetry, song lyrics and everything in between, these are some of the words that make my soul wish someone cared about me so much they would write this.Β 

β€œBecause you are the only person I can talk with about the shade of a cloud, about the song of a thought β€” and about how, when I went out to work today and looked a tall sunflower in the face, it smiled at me with all of its seeds.”

– Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

β€œMy mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may kiss it again is stuck in my brain, which hasn’t stopped thinking about you since, well, before any kiss. And now the prospect of those kisses seems to wind me like when you slip on the stairs and one of the steps hits you in the middle of the back. The notion of them continuing for what is traditionally terrifying forever excites me to an unfamiliar degree.” 

– Alex Turner’s Letter to Alexa Chung

β€œAnd I’d give up forever to touch you / β€˜Cause I know that you feel me somehow / You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be / And I don’t want to go home right now.” 

– From the songΒ β€œIris” by The Goo Goo Dolls

β€œI’m not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.” 

– Sally Rooney, Normal People

β€œIt is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants.”

– Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

β€œI could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

– Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

β€œIf all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

– Emily BrontΓ«, Wuthering Heights

β€œI am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue.”

β€”Vandana Khanna, Summer Mantra in "Afternoon Masala: Poems By Vandana Khanna"

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Someone once wrote that a novel should deliver a series of small astonishments. I get the same thing spending an hour with you.

E. Lockhart
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The girls I’ve loved always remind me of angels. It’s not lost on me, the irony. Love is always the closest I get to religion, to pearly white gates. They’re still gates, though, and they don’t open for me.

-my poem

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β€œI will eat you slowly with kisses even though the killer in you has gotten out.”

β€” Anne Sexton, from Loving the Killer; Love Poems, 1969

i am afraid to say the stronger word

virginia woolf, the letters of virginia woolf vol. 3 / andriy naboka, black & white / margaret atwood, pre-amphibian / pavana / pinterest / rachel mennies, the naomi letters / @night-rooms / rainer maria rilke, book of hours: love poems to god / normal people / vita sackville-west, excerpt from a letter to virginia woolf / annalaura_art on twitter / @slugspoon /

― Rainer Maria Rilke,Β The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge

[text id : β€œTo be loved means to be consumed. To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light. To be loved is to pass away, to love is to endure.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke,Β The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge]