I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII (via isabella927)
Muere lentamente quien no viaja,
quien no lee, quien no escucha música,
quien no halla encanto en si mismo.
Muere lentamente quien destruye su amor propio,
quien no se deja ayudar.
Muere lentamente quien se transforma en esclavo del habito, repitiendo todos los días los mismos senderos,
quien no cambia de rutina,
no se arriesga a vestir un nuevo color
o no conversa con desconocidos.
Muere lentamente quien evita una pasión
Y su remolino de emociones,
Aquellas que rescatan el brillo en los ojos
y los corazones decaidos.
Muere lentamente quien no cambia de vida cuando está insatisfecho con su trabajo o su amor,
Quien no arriesga lo seguro por lo incierto
para ir detrás de un sueño,
quien no se permite al menos una vez en la vida huir de los consejos sensatos…
¡Vive hoy! - ¡Haz hoy!
¡No te dejes morir lentamente!
¡No te olvides de ser feliz!
Neruda (via pordondenomepuedasver)
Iowa City actually has these. Proof that you live in a city full of #books and #bookworms (at Iowa City Downtown District)
Sitting here listening to my normal music but it seems a thousand times sadder and just scrolling on tumblr instead of finishing my project on psychological abuse. I’m a mess.
i love sir patrick stewart more with each passing day.
See, guys. This is how you do it. Notice the words “Not all men are like that” are never spoken.
He knows men are like that
his father was like that to his mother
he has experienced the pain firsthand, of what it’s like when men are like that
and he never wants men to be like that again and he fights tooth and nail against the men who are still like that
And moreover, he acknowledges his privilege [as an older white male who is famous/well known] and uses it to speak up. He knows what he is, and he never has to say he’s not like those men he fights against—he never says it, his actions speak loud enough for everyone else to see it.
Sir Patrick Stewart, everyone.
(Source: vastderp-placeholder, via francesarlington)