oh but captain, with your lovers

& I slept, having prayed, ‘God forgive all the sins uncommitted in my youth.’

—the bitter morning after a sinless night / david van dusen (via karileighrosenfeld)

(via landlessness)

The way her body existed only where he touched her. The rest of her was smoke.

—Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things (via poete)

(Source: fleurishes, via arbitrarily)

Oh God it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much

—Frank O’Hara, Steps (via atomiccherrybomb)

What better occupation, really, than to spend the evening at the fireside with a book, with the wind beating on the windows and the lamp burning bright. Haven’t you ever happened to come across in a book some vague notion that you’ve had, some obscure idea that returns from afar and that seems to express completely your most subtle feelings?

—Gustave Flaubert (via whiskey river)

(Source: proustitute, via hazeltons)