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hmzr1 · 1 year
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Rainy days, i’m in love
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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When Khaled Hosseini wrote, "A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you." I had to just stop for a second there.
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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Rain be gentle on my beloved, For she loves dancing to your melody.
— rebel x
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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“I know that feeling. You have to do something. You have to change something radically, because you can’t stay like you are for another second, or you’re going to explode.”
— Jennifer Echols, Forget You (via meineluft)
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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there are days, i just feel ok. and, then there are the days. i feel exhausted. i struggle to sleep in night. i hold my head tight and pull my hair so the thoughts in my head stop twisting. but, there's nothing that helps me stop thinking of what I don't want to. and, it's one of those nights. im struggling.
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.””
— Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass (via wedge-of-words)
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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When you're gone I shall look out of that window and think of you. I shall waste the whole evening thinking of you. I shall waste my whole life, I believe.
Virginia Woolf, Night and Day
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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“I am still a coward, still fearful; none of that has changed. But I turn and walk away from her. It’s like stepping off a cliff, believing the air will hold you up. And it does. I see that I don’t have to do what she says, and, worse and better, I’ve never had to do what she says. I can do what I like.”
— Margaret Atwood, Cat’s Eye
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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“Whenever I was on the point of speaking, I considered myself to be in ambush; and looking upon the ground, I uttered only a few words […] In order that my talk might not consist of complaint about recent happenings and become burdensome to people, my tongue remained firmly tied.”
— John Gower, Vox Clamantis (trans. by Eric W. Stockton)
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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“Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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Perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, Sylvia Plath
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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“I couldn’t help but sense, deep within his smile, a solitude that comes from a certain sort of secret.”
— Murakami - Killing Commendatore
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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such a
tragedy fallen
upon
the beloved of
Muhammad (s).
an eighteen years old's
hair
turned grey
of grief
she kept
in
her heart
like a great
secret.
a secret
Ali
buried in dust
along with
ashes
of his
heart.
burnt
of
fire; that broke out
at
the door
of
fatima (s).
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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she kept hiding
bruises.
they left on
her face.
while; she inhaled pain
and
exhaled oppression.
with; broken ribs
she
hugged her
scared childs
of
people who invaded
her
holy house.
only; fizza
knew
of all the
pain
zehra went through.
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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I am unable to describe exactly what is the matter with me; now and then there are horrible fits of anxiety, apparently without cause, or otherwise a feeling of emptiness and fatigue in the head.
— Vincent van Gogh, in a letter to his sister
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hmzr1 · 3 years
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“I still love the people I’ve loved, even if I cross the street to avoid them.”
— Uma Thurman (via perrfectly)
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