1 year ago reblogged from imholeyfredgeddit
She stubs out her cigarette in the brown glass ashtray, then settles herself against him, ear to his chest. She likes to hear his voice this way, as if it begins not in his throat but in his body, like a hum or a growl, or like a voice speaking from deep underground. Like the blood moving through her own heart: a word, a word, a word. Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via pavorst)
1 year ago reblogged from ailesdefee
lovebot:

aseaofquotes: Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

lovebot:

aseaofquotes: Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

1 year ago reblogged from lovebot

(Source: apieceofglass)

1 year ago reblogged from sweetxserenade

(Source: hipsteerloove)

1 year ago reblogged from ailesdefee

(Source: eatingoutinlondontown)

1 year ago reblogged from poeticheartache

(Source: likeafieldmouse)

1 year ago reblogged from lovebot
1 year ago reblogged from imholeyfredgeddit
fromme-toyou:

Kiss me in Paris
Have a romantic weekend! 

fromme-toyou:

Kiss me in Paris

Have a romantic weekend! 

(Source: annstreetstudio)

2 years ago reblogged from ailesdefee
She had always wanted words, she loved them; grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape. Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient (via victoriousvocabulary)

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