pure morning

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena (via books-n-quotes)

— Warsan Shire, excerpt from “34 Excuses For Why We Failed At Love” (via odetonic)

But now, for the first time, I see you are a man like me. I thought of your hand-grenades, of your bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late. Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony–Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?

[edit] old Versace ad. 

Small things between Phobos and Deimos, overheard at night  r.m | published in Songbreaths / buy me a ko-fi

— Helaena Moon @ : http://hapless-hollow.tumblr.com/ (via le-immorte)

He is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and it’s not about his face, but the life force I can see in him. It’s the smile and the pure promise of everything he has to offer. Like he’s saying, ‘Here I am world, are you ready for so much passion and beauty and goodness and love and every other word that should be in the dictionary under the word life?’ Except this boy is dead, and the unnaturalness of it makes me want to pull my hair out. It makes me want to yell at the Gods that I wish I didn’t believe in. For hogging him all to himself. I want to say, ’You greedy Gods. Give him back. I needed him here.”