The most painful thing on Earth is a pleasant memory. This nostalgia that sometimes comes over us isn’t an accident. It’s a message. It has something to tell us. We’re programmed to indulge in life, but this haunting nostalgia is a subliminal message from another plane. It’s the homing instinct of the mundane mind. At its best, it’s what draws us back to the Father. Nostalgia is a window to the soul, and the soul is lost to man as he lives. Nostalgia is the soul’s memory prior experience. Touching it, you touch the Eternal.
Richard Rose (via doobiebrother)
Sex should be a perfect balance of pain and pleasure. Without that symmetry, sex becomes a routine rather than an indulgence.
Marquis de Sade  (via concept-of-karma)

(Source: chrisperguidi)

It is a barbaric world, one where animals are seen as “units;” where the unproductive or underproductive are gassed, electrocuted, or otherwise killed by more painful, drawn out, and excruciating means; where virility serves as a substitute for thought; where compassion is a matter of professional misconduct; and where moral values must be sacrificed in the name of productivity.
Jocelyne Porcher on factory farms and industrial agriculture (via serialchillers)
Alone, taste the salt and taste the pain, I’m not thinking of you again.
Summer dies and swells rise, the sun goes down in my eyes.
See this rolling wave, darkly coming, to take me, home.
And I’ve never been so alone, and I’ve never been so alive.
Third Eye Blind

Give me your wrists and I’ll erase the scars with my tongue;

hand me your heart

and I’ll slip you my lungs.


Bodywork (via writingsforwinter)
Poetry is a naked woman, a naked man, and the distance between them.
Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Poetry as Insurgent Art  (via sweetsafehavenofmine)
In Austin, someone has scrawled on the bathroom wall of a cafe on Congress Street, “I don’t know if you or I exist, but somewhere there are poems about us.
Linh Dinh, Poetry Sightings (via your-other-brother)

(Source: poetryfoundation.org)

A soul mate is an ongoing connection with another individual that the soul picks up again in various times and places over lifetimes. We are attracted to another person at a soul level not because that person is our unique complement, but because by being with that individual, we are somehow provided with an impetus to become whole ourselves.
(via your-other-brother)

(Source: twistedkitti)

I want to moan and writhe with you and I want to go up to you and kiss your mouth and pull you to me and say ‘I love you I love you I love you’ while stripping. I want you so bad it stings.
Bret Easton Ellis, The Rules of Attraction  (via youngfolksociety)

(Source: these-bones)

My deeper death becomes your kiss
losing through you what seemed myself,
i find selves unimaginably mine;
beyond sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears
yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:
yours is the darkness of my soul’s return
you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars
E.E. Cummings (via philosophizetheuniverse)
Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.
Ernest Hemingway  (via redwoodcollective)
I have a habit of falling in love with souls who have yet to be at peace with their bodies, their minds, their weaknesses. I try to build them, to find the parts of them that are missing in me.
I end up with holes in my chest.
Farah Gabdon (via modernmethadone)

(Source: netherworldnative)

Sometimes, life seems to have a higher meaning. Events unfold in uncanny sequences. Long-forgotten acquaintances turn up with news that changes lives. A stranger appears and speaks a few words of wisdom, solving a previously insoluble problem, or something in a recent dream transpires in reality. Suddenly the existence of God seems confirmed.
Dean Koontz, Winter Moon (via simply-quotes)
Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow.
Oliver Wendell Holmes (via victoriousvocabulary)