Oscar Wilde Said That If You Know What You Want To Be, Then You Inevitably Become It - That Is Your Punishment,

Rejection doesn’t hurt, expectation does. Lying doesn’t destroy, denial does. Forgetfulness doesn’t heal, forgiveness does.

Unknown (via wordsnquotes)

I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.

Franz Kafka,  Letters to Milena (via wordsnquotes)

I’m not really so hard & cynical after all — in fact I’m still dangerously soft.

Tennessee Williams, Notebooks (via wordsnquotes)

Courage isn’t having the strength to go on - it is going on when you don’t have strength.

Napoléon Bonaparte  (via wordsnquotes)

I can be someone’s and still be my own.

 Shel Silverstein  (via wordsnquotes)

#santa #innocence

Looking for Santa in the Chimney

Taken around 1900, this professional photo is entitled “Where Santa Lives.” [ Original: Santa in the Chimney 1900 ]

Try wearing my shoes today. Notice how they’re not quite your size? That makes it a little harder to walk, doesn’t it?

sonyasbestfriend (via wnq-writers)

Yes!

Beauty can be found everywhere.

We were honored to help Jordanians and Syrian refugees breakthrough conflict and come together to build this beautiful new girls’ school in Za’atari Village.

11 Messages Of Female Empowerment From Women In Hollywood

I know you don’t exactly have a way with words that you couldn’t possibly understand the storm that washed the thoughts from my mind or the distraction of worrying about my cheeks blushing when you lean in to whisper when there is no one within earshot i can’t possibly express on paper that feeling of taking a breath, of the moment in suspension right before you lose your balance that burns within my stomach when I catch you looking at me like that without warning there are so many words in the english language and no matter how many times I describe the warmth of your fingers or the fluster of nothing on my lips i cannot fathom us into poetry i am a poet and you do not make sense to me I cannot describe you as a blooming flower, unfurling to reveal the deepest parts of yourself because you would only laugh at that I cannot describe you in hyperboles or words or metaphors and I am a poet so that makes me want to scream my throat raw and rip apart the paper and words that flood from my fingertips messily that is the only way i can describe us and somewhat feel satisfied in the way I always seek satisfaction in words to write poetry about us is to write in a dead language to write poetry about us is the frustration in watching you expose the bruises on your jaw and cling onto your dignity while you whisper how reckless you’ve been into my shoulder I cannot bandage your pride; I cannot compose you into a sonnet I can write every delicate detail of drowning in a golden clawed bathtub or sitting in sunlight with flowers woven behind my ears but the truth is that each image i conjure isn’t simple enough because we are not an epic simile and your hands are not actually fire burning at my cheeks they are just hands I can write about myself I can condense myself into a neat placement of words but you I cannot describe you even if I spoke in hieroglyphics or braille I was once told that despite how beautiful, language is flawed And I did not believe that one bit Until you looked at me with an expression That I could not find a metaphor for you are strictly tangible, only flesh and crooked front teeth and that is why my heart will soon fracture for I can either write us onto paper or I can silently love you

ochredeity, ”To the boy I love”  (via wordsnquotes)

Words cannot describe.