October 2011
26 posts
1 tag
1 tag
littlefactorygirl:
knockturn:
“What is he aching to do? What are we all aching to do? What do we want?” She didn’t know. She yawned. She was sleepy. It was too much. Nobody could tell. Nobody would ever tell. It was all over. She was eighteen and most lovely, and lost.
— Jack Kerouac, On The Road
misswallflower:
“As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.”
— Anne Sexton
