1980s vintage postcard of Paris, France.
"Whatever life takes away from you, let it go. When you surrender and let go of the past, you allow yourself to be fully alive in the moment. Letting go of the past means you can enjoy the dream that is happening right now."
— Don Miguel Riuz (via lavenderdays)

Four dollars. That’s not even the best part. You want to know what’s better then getting these amazing books for only four dollars….? Every single one of them was picked out and brought home by my wife. Pure bliss. Love it.
Apparently, it is Awesome Soul Mate Friday all over Tumblr.
I did not get the memo.
"The worst thing to call someone is crazy. It’s dismissive. I don’t understand this person, so they’re crazy. That’s bullshit, because people are not crazy. They’re strong people. Maybe their environment is a little sick."
— Dave Chappelle (via nihilnoetia)
chicklit:lotusohm:mustanggina:justbesplendid:
reading room
great room. I love that robin’s egg blue color. I just bought a frame in that color. I think it works really well as an accent color in a mostly white room like the one above.
"The true genius shudders at incompleteness - and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be."
"A writer is, after all, only half his book. The other half is the reader and from the reader the writer learns."
— P. L. Travers (via nihilnoetia)
"Doesn’t it feel much better, uh huh, when you’ve had a better day than yesterday?"
— Lady Sovereign (via nihilnoetia)
"We all come to the novelist as slaves stand before an emperor. He can free us with a word. Through him we can abandon our former lot and know what it is to be a general, a weaver, a singer, a country gentleman, to live in the village, to gamble, to hunt, to hate, to love, to go soldiering. Through him we are Napoleon, Savonarola, a peasant—stranger yet, an existence we might never have experienced, we are ourselves. He lends a voice to the mob, to solitude, to the old churchman, to the sculptor, to the child, to the horse, to the soul within us. Through him, we become the true Proteus who puts on all forms of life in succession. Exchanging them this, one for another, we feel that to our being, grown so agile and so strong, these forms of life are only a game, a mask that grieves or grins, but which is never quite real. Our good or bad fortune momentarily loses its tyrannical hold on us, we play with it and with that of others. This is why we feel such happiness when we reach the end of some beautiful novel with a tragic theme."
— Marcel Proust (On Art and Literature) (via readbooks) (via miss-elwind)








