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(Source: amandaonwriting)

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52hearts:

distance is not always measured in numbers or amounts. sometimes it is measured in being a phone call away, or the need to be skin to skin. sometimes it is measured in the number of nights you have to sleep alone, breakfasts you make for just one, a thousand sunrises you have to wake up without another body’s warmth next to you. sometimes it is measured in the amount of love you have to keep in you until you can give it away.

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The Color Thesaurus

simonsjumpers:

moirakatson:

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All from Ingrid’s Notes on Wordpress, direct link here.

Fanfiction writers here’s a treat

(via mentalexotica)

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sharanyamanivannan:

Love this. It’s truer than you might think (unless you, also, know - hello, my fellow island).

sharanyamanivannan:

Love this. It’s truer than you might think (unless you, also, know - hello, my fellow island).

(Source: explore-blog)

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"I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a
single word: Home."

— Mahmoud Darwish, from “I Belong There”, translated by Munir Akash and Carolyn Forché (via the-final-sentence)

(via maryyannneeee)

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cageofribbons:

“There is always something left to love.”

Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (via itsfromabook)

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"The French have a phrase for it. The bastards have a phrase for everything and they are always right. To say goodbye is to die a little."

— Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye (via larmoyante)

(via maryyannneeee)